


Soulbound

by CynicalUke



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Angst, Dreams and Nightmares, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fantasy, Femdom, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Freedom, Gentle femdom, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Internal Conflict, Masochism, Mental Anguish, Monsters, Other, POV First Person, Past Child Abuse, Relationship Problems, Relationship(s), Romance, Scars, Self-Discovery, Slavery, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Sparring, Stockholm Syndrome, Strong Female Characters, Unresolved Tension, Violence, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-23 23:46:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 44,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16169231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicalUke/pseuds/CynicalUke
Summary: A slave of the Anedonian Empire for as long as he can remember, he knows himself only by the number branded into his chest, "457".After an unfortunate incident leaves him abandoned in the wild, he finds himself lost, alone, and vulnerable, until he is rescued by a mysterious lone huntress.For the first time in his life, he is forced to think about his purpose and discover his identity, as the huntress struggles to show him what freedom truly means.





	1. Humble Beginnings

CRACK!

The lash connects with the skin on my back, and I continue working. It doesn’t matter what I did wrong. The whip comes down either way. The blows blend together amongst all of us, and every one of us feels it numerous times a day. We’ve grown used to the pain. All that is understood is the sound.

CRACK! 

It means somebody did something wrong, and that everyone needs to work harder – yet even then, you might bear the lash again at any time. It’s best to just keep working.

Most don’t even wear anything to cover their backs anymore. The whip rips through any sort of upperwear in a matter of weeks, sometimes days, or if you’re particularly unlucky, an hour. It doesn’t make a difference. The skin on your back will still tear if the lash comes down hard enough, regardless of what you’re wearing. The only clothes I have on me are frayed rags made out of torn burlap sacks, tied with dried wheat to cover my legs and feet.

I was beaten the day I tried to make new ones that were more comfortable. Being beaten is a lot worse than being lashed. There are no limits to what can happen if you get beaten. Once you’re on the ground, one hard stomp from an iron boot will break a spine or even crush a skull. I’ve seen it happen to others. I was lucky.

That must have been a few years ago, back when I was usually put to work on the the fields. That’s for the younger ones, the ones who don’t understand the way things work yet.

Now I work with people who are experienced, outside of the walls. Even so, I must be one of the youngest among them. I think I must be just approaching full manhood now. I don’t know for certain, though. I’ve been a slave for as long as I can remember. This is life. Work or pain.

It’s a simple choice to me.

~

The sun is almost down, the bottom of it starting to sink beneath the forest tree-line. The horn blows, signaling the end of the day. We’re rounded up as the bronze-clad men on horses yell things to one another, or to one of us in the rags.

CRACK!

We begin heading back home, in the opposite direction of the forest, across the barren fields and dry tree stumps, where the forest used to extend to, destroyed by our hands. Dirt, rocks, and chipped bark litters most of the landscape, save for the dense woodlands behind us. Eventually that will be gone too. It seems endless, but we come back every day. It’ll take years, perhaps decades, but it will all be removed. I don’t know what we’ll do then. I wonder if I’ll be alive to see – CRACK!

I clench my jaw and snap to my senses. I was moving too slowly, lost in idle thought. One of the taskmasters barks at me to move faster. 

CRACK! 

The encampment isn’t much further.

~

The iron gate opens, and we’re reorganized in a stone courtyard, miles of flat ground spotted with guard towers manned by men with repeater crossbows. Many more detachments of slaves and taskmasters are also arriving. Hundreds of us are lined up in uniform squares, ten by ten, one-hundred to each square. We know our spots.

Some spaces are empty. I try not to notice them. It means they were disposed of for insubordination or weakness, or they were killed by the dangers of the wilderness. Either way, they’re just broken tools that will be replaced tomorrow morning.

One by one, numbers are called, in order. We respond to our numbers, and our spots are checked. If no response comes, and a spot is empty, roll call continues as normal. If no response comes, but that spot is occupied, the slave standing there is removed, and also replaced the next morning. I don’t know what happens to the slave.

My number comes up, and I repeat it. It’s easy to remember. If I ever forget, I can just look at the brand on my chest, the imprint that will forever label me a slave, marked 457.

A woman in chainmail comes to escort me to my cell, standing a few paces behind me, crossbow sights lined up with the back of my neck. Upon arriving at my cell, which matches my number, I place both hands on the far wall inside. Then the iron door slams shut. All is silent, save for the dampened sounds of other cell doors doing the same.

Inside of the cell lies my daily sustenance, as always. A gallon of water in a clay pot, and a thick slab of tasteless meat, sitting in the corner. Sometimes the meat is charred black. Sometimes it’s hardly cooked at all. Undercooked meat fills me up more than when it is overcooked. I’m not so lucky tonight.

The meat is hard and flaky. I decide to save most of it for the morning, to better conserve my energy. Whatever gives me the best odds for survival, and avoids unnecessary lashes. I drink most of the water in the pot, and tear the meat into smaller pieces and leave them to soak in the rest of the water.

I find the driest corner of the cell, curl up on the floor, and repeat the cycle.

~

I am awoken by the sound of cell doors being opened and closed, and guards shouting at slaves who weren’t already awake, or those who went to sleep for the last time. They will also be quickly replaced.

I usually wake up before the day begins, but fortunately, my door still hasn’t been opened yet. I quickly consume the meat I’d prepared for this morning and wash it down with what little water remained.

With my back to the wall, I stand at the ready. My cell door is eventually opened, and a man stands in the doorway, showing no emotion. I recognize the face, but I know nothing about him. Seeing I am already on my feet, he simply nods. The only sign of respect I ever hope to expect. He steps aside, readies his crossbow, and I begin walking back to the courtyard, him hounding behind me.

~

We are back in our squares, and I see some new people in the spots that were empty last night, each bearing the number of the slaves they replaced on their chests, freshly burned into their skin. Anxiety clearly shows on their faces, uncertain of what awaits them.

We’re split by each row into groups of ten. The taskmaster of my line assigns us to our roles. Five are given axes and hatchets for chopping trees, and five are given machetes, to clear bramble, vines, and underbrush. Most of the gear is dulled and rusty from age and old use. I’m handed a flimsy, slightly bent machete. I test its sharpness by trying to slit the callused skin on my palm. It just leaves a red mark for a few seconds. Dull.

We are led to a wagon, which we will ride to the forest edge. Five repeater crossbowmen are already onboard. The taskmaster takes the helm and drives the oxen forward with his whip.

CRACK!

A few of the other slaves on board flinch at the sound. I stare at my feet.

~

The wagon stops and we’re told to get off. A guard is assigned to overlook a pair of slaves each. Wordlessly, we begin chopping away at the vegetation, piece by piece, in a somewhat organized grid. I clear the large shrubbery first, foraging my way through the dense woodlands. It’s difficult to see far inside, even on this clear, sunny day. The guardsman seems to be focused on the other slave more than me. He’s new, so it’s understandable. You can tell by how he walks. He’s nervous. Jumpy. Afraid. People like him tend to be more scrutinized, to ensure they learn faster, and don’t run off into the wilds.

The day is quiet, aside from the sounds of exertion made by the slaves, the growls and cries of predator on prey exchanges happening deeper within the forest, and the tense breathing of the guardsmen around us. They’re here just as much for our protection as they are to ensure we stay on task.

The dullness of my machete means I have to rip and pull to uproot the brush with my bare hands just as often as I can cut through the bramble directly. It’s exhausting, and before long my hands and forearms are burning and my back is sore. That’s no excuse. There are no excuses. If my progress is too slow, I’m bound for the lash to encourage me to keep a quick pace. I’ll have my break when the sun goes down and we return to our cells.

I look forward to it especially today.

~

The sky begins to fade to an orange hue, and the taskmaster arrives to tell us to return to the wagon. After speaking with the guard we were appointed, he asks the other slave and I to hand over our equipment.

“What is this!?” He cries out.

As the machete changes hands, I’m suddenly jerked forward as he wrenches my wrist and forearm over, palm facing up and exposing my veins.

“Answer now, slave! WHAT IS THIS!?” He repeats, his voice frantic.

“I don’t know, master.” I reply, looking at my arm with just as much surprise as he.

The skin is raw, and a blooming rash forms at the center of my palm. It’s blood-red at the edges, with dark, pasty lines just beginning to trace the veins down my arm.

He screams something about rotting at the guard standing next to me as I try to get my bearings on the situation. The taskmaster shoves my hand away from him, flinching back in shock. Then he flings the machete I had been using into the bushes. He seems transfixed on his own hand for a short lapse in time, and my gaze returns to mine. I find myself asking the same question to myself. What is – CRACK!

~~~


	2. Monsters in the Dark

A dozen sets of tiny legs are tickling my leg. I’m on my back, and darkness surrounds me. I scrape my hand down my leg and jump to my feet. The right side of my face is burning, and I feel that it’s caked with dried blood. I pick it off to trace the source. A long slit stings the side of my face, where the whip must have connected; just under my eye along the cheekbone.

I don’t understand. I look at my hand again. The rash seems to be reaching further down my wrist. I’m lost as to what it is. It could be an infection, maybe poison. It doesn’t hurt or itch, aside from the feeling I get when I look at it, I don’t notice it. Why was the taskmaster so hysterical when he saw it?

That’s when I realize nobody else is around. It’s dark, and I’m alone in the forest. I’ve been left behind. Everybody else must be back at camp by now. I was an empty space at roll call. I look to the number on my chest.  **_457._ ** I’ll have to be replaced tomorrow morning. I’m already dead.

I start to pace, when I step on something unnatural. Picking it up, I realize it’s the machete. The one I’d been using. The taskmaster had flung it away after inspecting my hand. And then he had looked at his own in fear. That was when I was knocked unconscious, and left behind.

So that means I’m dangerous. Anything I touch is contaminated. Maybe it’s a disease. I was left for dead. If whatever’s affecting my palm doesn’t kill me, the forest surely will. I can’t return to camp, or stay out on the plains. I’m supposed to be dead. If they find me, they’ll put an arrow through my skull and leave my corpse to rot wherever it falls.

I’m a problem, plain and simple. My hand is a problem, my number is a problem, I am a problem. So this is my fate - to die in the forest. I can’t help but notice I don’t feel anything.

What would the alternative have been? To spend my life as a slave until I fall of exhaustion and have my corpse thrown aside or burned, a waste of space to be disposed of? Dying in the forest is probably a better fate.

_ Stop thinking. Everybody dies, it doesn’t matter how. What matters is that I’m still alive. My job is to stay alive. _

I forget how to breathe. My thoughts sound just like the taskmasters’. But it’s my voice. My mind starts to reel, and my heart skips a dozen beats.

**_‘Get over yourself. You have work to do.’_ **

I look at my palm again. The pasty-looking lines coming from the center seem to be turning to a deep shade of violet. It tingles intensely as I stare at it, but the sensation fades as soon as I look away. There’s nothing I can do about it without knowing what it is. I just have to deal with the forest right now. The most dangerous time is at night.

Gripping the machete, I simply continue my original task, clearing myself a path to head deeper into the forest. Before I get even thirty paces in, the darkness gets to me. It’s almost pitch black in every direction. The way I came from is only barely noticeable. There is no moon, no stars in sight. The dense canopy blocks any trace of light from reaching me. This is hopeless.

I don’t know what to do. I just want light. I can’t think without even being able to see my surroundings. I curl up on the ground and try to sleep, hoping to wait until sunrise. The forest is strangely quiet. Regardless, I find myself unable to sleep. I do my best to settle in for a long wait.

It’s strangely quiet now without the constant rustling of the underbrush wherever I moved. It’d almost be peaceful, if it weren’t for the fact that I could hardly see a few footlengths in any direction. I hear movement nearby, but the sound echoes in such a way that I can’t pinpoint what direction it came from. I tense in fear of the unknown, but it doesn’t do me any good.

My ankle is ripped open and I kick out through reflex, heel connecting with fur. Pain shoots through my leg in response. I scramble to my feet, doing my best to stand up straight. A growl comes from the bushes next to me, and the sound of rustling leaves begins to circle me. I try to follow the sound of the shrubbery.

As it crosses the trail I’d left, in the open I can make out a faint silhouette of what could be a small fox, or a large rat. Its growl sounds a bit more high-pitched than the occasional canine watch-hounds I’d seen back at the encampment. The bushes go silent, before it suddenly rushes towards me from the right. I pivot on my bitten ankle as I swing the machete in its direction. I feel the flat of the blade connect with the beast as it lunges in mid-air, and my leg gives out from the impact. The fall knocks the machete from my hand.

I struggle to stand up, managing only to bring myself up on one knee. I can’t find the machete. I hear the vermin let out a slight whine somewhere in the brush beside me. Then it emerges from the bushes into the pathway I’d cleared, a few paces in front of me.

Its silhouette is all I can see, with the slightly liquid shine of its black eyes being the only distinctive feature. The mongrel stands still, as I stare it down, waiting for the mutt to make its move. All is silent for a split moment, before a guttural growl comes from the belly of the beast, and I see the creature subtly change its stance. I clench my jaw in anticipation.

The animal lunges for my throat, and I bring my arm up just in time, so it latches onto that limb instead. It’s teeth and claws rend my flesh as I clasp its neck with my free hand. I squeeze. The beast whines. I slam it down into the dirt, and bear all of my weight on top of it. With a brief snap, its screeches are cut off suddenly, and its body goes limp. I take the chance to let myself do the same.

Laying next to its lifeless corpse, I look more closely at the creature. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Its muzzle is like that of a canine, but the rest of it seems to be more of a large rodent. The tail I feel has no fur, and two thin fangs extend from the front of its snout.

Pain in my heel makes itself known again, and I see that it’s been punctured all the way through. Two tiny holes between the bones in the back of my foot keep me from being able to stand up without support. I haven’t even made it through one night, and I’ve suffered a crippling injury.

**_‘Focus. Pain is an abstract. Survival is what matters.’_ **

If another predator comes along while I’m lying here like this, I’m done for. Eventually the corpse next to me will start to smell, and probably attract more creatures like it.

**_‘Stand up.’_ **

I struggle to set myself upright, but my knee buckles as soon as I put any weight on my punctured heel.

**_‘Get on your feet. Now.’_ **

Once more, I drag myself up, leaning against a thick willow tree. My ankle feels like it’s going to explode at any moment, but I force it to do it’s job. Looking in all directions, I can only see for a few paces before everything appears to be pitch black. I have to wait until morning before I can get my bearings.

Where am I going to go? My head rests back against the moist bark of the willow, and I slump down beside it. I need rest. I need food and water. All I’ve come across are bushes and trees.

Why did they make us clear the forest little by little? Why not burn it all down? It would’ve been so much easier. I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. I won’t be cutting down any more of these trees anytime soon.

_ Trees. _

I look at the willow behind me. It’s large and thick, but not too tall. I could climb it, perhaps get some rest before sunrise.

The bark is warped and knobby, easy to get a grip on. The process is slow-going with my ankle the way it is, but I make my way to a point near the top, making myself comfortable where a heavy branch meets the center of the tree.

For once, I feel I have a moment to relax, and I let my gaze lazily drift to my palm, admiring the wiry dark lines along my veins as I slowly drift to sleep.

~

**_THOOM!_ **

My body is rattled as my resting place feels as if thunder has erupted from the trees roots. The weather appears to be clear, and the sun must have risen. While the sky is still hardly visible, the forest is bright enough to see things clearly now.

**_THOOM!_ **

The willow nearly shakes me off with the second blow. I hear the bark begin to crack at the trunk. A bellow of primal rage rings out beneath me.

At the foot of the tree I occupy stands a hunched, vaguely humanoid beast. Muddy brown fur covers it from head to toe, aside from its nubby fingers and wrinkled face. Two discolored tusks jut out from its bottom lip. As I peek over the edge to watch it, the monster makes eye contact with me. It roars again, its glossy black eyes wild with fury.

It rams its entire body into the base of the tree, and I can’t get a firm grip before I’m sent tumbling down to the forest below. I can’t breathe, and I see white flashing dots as I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my lip. I don’t let myself cry out in pain. Weakness only brings more pain.

_ CRACK! _

My eyes shoot open to see the massive brute looming over me. It must be at least 7 feet tall, and half as wide. Its spittle flecks my body as it screams again. I see its thick tongue flap in its mouth.

_ You talk too much. _

With a surge of adrenaline, I leap to my feet and slam into the troll head on. The beast isn’t staggered in the slightest, but it bellows with rage once more. I leap up to ram my arm into the creature’s throat, grasping at its tongue and pulling with all of my might. The monstrosity snaps its jaws shut just as my hand escapes its oral cavity, tongue still in hand.

The savage splits the organ in half with its own teeth, and I’m left with a limp mass of soggy purple tissue in my fist. I let it fall to the floor, feeling invigorated.

The beast wails and hunches over for a brief moment. However, it doesn’t take long for it to recollect itself. With another furious scream, it begins to lurch toward me. Beginning to think more tactically, I guess it would only take a single direct strike from it to break half of the bones in my body.

I start to look for another weak point to exploit, but the monster seems solid in every area aside from its bleeding maw with half of a tongue, which I doubt I could accomplish ripping out a second time. I could try to escape, but I can’t run for long. The burning sensation is already returning to my ankle, albeit faintly.

_ Think! _

Instead I freeze. I can’t run. I can’t fight. I can’t think anymore.


	3. What is Your Name?

**_STHWIT!_ **

A sharp breeze jets past my ear and I see an arrow appear in the troll’s stomach. The beast doubles over and breaks the arrow in half, a piece still lodged in its skin. Its grubby hands frantically grab at the arrowhead, but it can’t get a good grasp. A terrible cry escapes its throat, a sound of pure terror.

I hear footsteps running up behind me, and I see a figure loose another arrow at me. I dive away, face first into the dirt.

**_THUNK!_ **

Guttural gargles follow the sound of the impact, and I turn to see another arrow lodged in the troll’s throat. It falls forward with a thud, and after a few final convulsions, lies still as a rock.

“Who are you?” a stern voice sounds out behind me.

Covered in roughly fitted hides of various animals, the figure stands above me with their bow aimed right between my eyes.

“The troll is dead, now speak.”

They killed that incredible monstrosity with ease, and now they’re addressing me as if it was nothing. I can hardly process what’s happening.

I stare blankly at the stone arrowhead, before my gaze drifts up to the figure’s eyes.

The voice sounds feminine, but she appears boyish. Her hair is cut extremely short, dirty and muddy like my own. Everything about her is thin. Thin lips, thin eyes, thin body. Her pale skin contrasts with her dark brown eyes, meeting mine in an intense stare.

“Just because I saved your life doesn’t mean I’m not just as ready to end it myself, now answer my question. Who are you?” Her bowstring audibly strains as she draws it back further. I half-expect it to snap at any moment.

_ You don’t know the answer. _

I instinctively cover the brand on my chest. My number would be replaced by now. I can’t answer with that, or they’ll know that I’m a slave, and an escaped one at that. I’d heard stories of slave-hunters who scouted the forest to eliminate those who flee their taskmasters. They were always told by other slaves, and I’d always considered them to be mere rumors.

_ Why did she save you then? _

I don’t know the answer to that either. I realize I don’t know much of anything.

_ Confusion only brings more pain. It makes them angry. _

“I… I don’t know.” I state plainly. I anticipate the feeling of a lash, but it doesn’t come.

“How can you not know who you are? And why do you clutch at your heart like that? Are you injured? Sick?” She seems to express a type of concern that I don’t understand. The beginning of every sentence makes me flinch.

_ Too many questions. _

I stutter and stumble over my words, not used to speaking much more than responses to simple orders. I reveal the marking burned into my chest. “I-I was number _457…_ but they would have replaced me by now, s-so--”

“They? You mean the Anedonians? The empire that occupies the barrens? The sadistic people who keep pushing back the Fringe? Fah! There’s nobody across the rest of Leanan as horrible as their kind!” Her eyes flash with anger, and the bowstring tightens even more.

_ You don’t know what she’s talking about. _

“I-I–”

_ CRACK! _

**_‘Answer!’_** I hear shouted at me, but it’s not the same voice. It’s… in my head.

I feel horribly claustrophobic, trapped with no way out. I can’t ignore it like I usually do. Answering with silence isn’t an option here. This isn’t normal. It’s not right. Before, when I made mistakes or pissed off a taskmaster, I could just endure the lash and move on. Here, there is no lash, and it terrifies me. Death will be my punishment.

“So that means you’re a slave.” The girl standing over me notes, and my heart prepares to burst, in anticipation of the arrow about to pierce it.

**_‘Wrong answer.’_ **

“Or rather, were a slave.” She grins at me, making me uncomfortable. Then, suddenly, the arrow breaks contact with the bowstring. She lowers her aim, and slings her bow over her shoulder, extending a hand to… help me up?

Before I can react, worry quickly spreads to her face. I find myself missing that strange smirk from before.

“Your hand. It’s tainted.” Her voice is abnormally gentle. Almost caring.

“You aren’t going to kill me?”

“No. You don’t seem all that dangerous, and I’d rather not waste any more of my good arrows. Besides, that case of vein-rot will probably kill you anyway if you don’t bleed it out.”

She kneels beside me. I just stare at her, rooted in place.

“Ahem… could I take a look at it?” She points to my arm. I don’t respond. Why is she asking me my permission? That shouldn’t matter.

She waits expectantly, so I decide to warn her away instead. “N-no, I think it can spread. My last taskmaster was afraid of my hand when he saw it like this. That’s why I was disposed of.”

“Disposed of? You’re not a piece of…” She cuts herself off, her face somber for a brief moment, before she quickly straightens her expression. “Fah. Leave it to those foreigners to force their way into lands they don’t even understand. It’s not contagious or any of that nonsense. So you don’t have to worry, you can let me take a look at it.”

She reaches over to grab my arm, and I don’t resist. Her grip is firm, but not forceful. She slowly turns it over and around, inspecting it from different angles. “It doesn’t seem to have spread far yet, so you’re in luck. How long have you had this?”

“One day. I don’t know exactly how.”

“Skettlebriar, most likely. It’s not too common, but it’s hard to spot unless you know what to watch out for. You must have touched some with an open wound, or a raw patch of skin.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“I figured as much. Well, the good news is, your hand is pretty far from your heart, so you’ll probably be fine for a good while.”

“What’s going to happen to me?”

“If you don’t purge it? Well, once it reaches your heart, you’ll feel numb, go limp, and then you’ll be stuck like that until you die.” Her matter-of-fact way of saying that makes me uncomfortable.

It’s against my instinct to ask too many questions, but I need to know more.

“H-how do I fix it?”

“There are two ways. First option is to cut open a vein a bit ahead of where the infection has spread, and drain all of the blood from the area. It rarely works though, and chances are you’ll just bleed out if you can’t stop it up again once you’re done.” She says this nonchalantly, smirking as if she’d just made a joke.

I fidget uncomfortably, hoping the other way is better. She continues on, “Your second option is to let a bloodsucker hug your arm for a few hours.”

“What’s a bloodsucker?”

“A bloodsucker’s a bloodsucker. Are you really that – …I’m sorry. You said you’ve only been free, er… in the forest for a day.”

Why did she say she was sorry? Nobody says sorry to a slave. And slaves never say sorry either. Apologies don’t mean anything.

_ The whip comes down either way. _

“Anyways, um, bloodsuckers are like… slugs, or worms, that… cling to your skin to drink your blood. More like a squid, to be honest, but… Fah, I doubt you know what that is either. They’re not that bad, though.”

I know what I have to do now. “Okay. Where can I find one?”

“They don’t inhabit the lands these far south. Too dry. We’ll have to head to the marshlands. It’s about two day’s journey north. Then, you just find a pool of water to swim in for a while. They’ll come to you.”

I don’t know how to swim, I don’t know what the marshlands are, or which way is north. I feel like I should, and that makes me feel weak. The reality of just how lost I am begins to settle in…

The woman hesitates, looking me over. “To be clear, though, I doubt you’d ever be able to make it there on your own.”

I can’t bring myself to disagree. I stare blankly at my hand. I was disposed of for a reason. I’m hopeless. Easier to just be replaced by somebody else.

She nudges my shoulder. “But on the bright side, I’m not just going to leave you to die. I’ll take you there.” She doesn’t sound very sure of herself right away.

“Why?” I don’t understand this girl.

Her eyes flash with anger as she quickly answers, “Because I do what I know to be right.”

What she knows to be right… I don’t know what’s ‘right’ about helping me, when all I’m liable to be is a problem, but I don’t say anything. Instead I start to stand up, but I am reminded of my ankle, and remain on the ground.

“Can you stand?” Her voice sounds soft again. The question was simple, but it makes me uneasy. I don’t know how to answer her without seeming weak. I avoid looking at her.

“I need you to speak to me.” Her tone is annoyed and commanding. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is. Are you injured?”

I still don’t understand her reasoning for concerning herself with me, but I force myself to respond. “My ankle.” I mutter the words through my teeth, ashamed and angry at myself.

She shifts her attention to my wound, taking note of it. “Looks like a…” Surprise washes over her face, “a rassic bite. How did you get into a fight with a rassic?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t even get a good look at it. I was just lying down waiting for the sun to rise. What’s a rassic?”

She lets out a sigh of exasperation. “They’re scavengers, like rats, only bigger. And they only bite things that are already dead… or idiots that think that it’s okay to sleep on the forest floor at night.”

“Well, I killed it, and went to sleep in a tree afterwards. Then that big thing showed up and knocked me out of it.”

She stifles a laugh. “That big thing? That was a timber troll.”

I don’t like being laughed at. “Okay. The timber troll. It’s dead now, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Easy, now. I didn’t mean any offense. There probably wasn’t anything you could have done to avoid ‘that big thing’, but you’ve still got a lot to learn. Luckily for you, I showed up. The Fringe is a dangerous region.”

She has me there. “Well, I… I, um, managed to rip out a piece of its tongue, but, still…” I hesitate. I should be more grateful. “If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be dead right now.”

She shows pride in herself as I say it, and I don’t know what to feel. I want to let her know I appreciate her help, but the fact that I needed it irritates me. Being on the ground at her feet makes me feel weaker still. I force myself to stand up, ignoring the pain in my heel.

“Considering it being your first day in the Fringe, you handled yourself well, but unfortunately, you’re right. Watching you leap at that troll and stick your hand in it’s mouth mid-roar is probably the most psychotic thing I’ve seen a man do. So yes, you would  _ probably _ be dead if it weren’t for me. Which is why I can’t abandon you now. At least, not if I want to keep a clear conscience, haha!”

I’m not sure what I want to say, but I know I don’t want to be here anymore. I try to be clear. “Thank you. For saving me. If you say we should go north, then… I’ll follow you.”

She chuckles, and remarks, “You don’t even want to know the name of your savior before we head off?” with an exaggerative tone and excessive emphasis on ‘savior’.

I want to get angry at her. I’ve gotten by this long without any names, not even knowing my own. It takes me a moment before I realize she’s just playing with her words, after twisting mine. I’d told her that she’d saved me, after all.

Defeated, I ask, “What’s your name?”

“My name is Nell.” She makes a dramatic bow and continues with the exaggeration of a deep, manly tone of voice as she introduces herself. “And how about yours?”

“I don’t have one.”

Her smirk disappears instantly, a wave of shock replacing the expression on her face. Her voice turns morose. “Oh… Oh, I’m so sorry. Really, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine.” I cut her off. I don’t need her pity. “Just call me slave. Or 457.” I’m at least used to that. I might not actually be number 457 anymore, but it’s not important. I’d rather worry about my hand.

“I refuse to call you either of those things.” Anger merges with sadness in her voice.

“What then? I don’t have a name. It doesn’t matter. Call me whatever you want.”

“Why don’t you just give yourself a name? It should be up to you.”

“No.”

How can I explain to her that I don’t want to think about it? I don’t want a name, because that would mean it belongs to me. Even the number burned into my chest doesn’t belong to me.

“Why not?” It doesn’t seem like she’s willing to give this up.

“Because anything that belongs to you can be taken away.”

Both of us are rooted in place, time seemingly frozen. I stare her down, but her gaze doesn’t falter. I feel she isn’t looking at me, or looking at anything. It’s as if she sees through me, piercing me with those dark eyes.

I can’t decide if I’d rather be pierced by one of her arrows instead and just be done with all of this.

“What if I…  gave you a name?” Nell’s voice is commanding, but her expression is anything but authoritative. I can see the moisture building in the corners of her eyes, starting to glaze over.

“Okay.” I don’t understand why she’s on the verge of tears, but I know I don’t want her to cry. “I said you could call me whatever you want.”

She shifts her focus to the grass between us. “I’ll think of something eventually, okay? A nickname, at least.”

I don’t get why she worded it as if it were a question. I don’t know how I should respond. When she looks at me again, I look down at her feet. The strange girl who calls herself Nell makes me feel strange. The pit of my stomach churns.

She breaks the silence yet again. “Listen… I’ve set up camp about half the days walk from here. It might take a bit longer with your ankle, so we should start off now. Just follow me. You can get lost easily in these parts if you’re not careful, so keep close.”

Finally, she’s speaking in terms I can understand.


	4. Sustenance

The rough terrain is cumbersome to traverse without the machete to clear the bushes and brambles, and progress is slowed by my ankle. Nell scouts a few paces ahead of me, constantly checking behind her to make sure I’m able to keep up. I have to push myself in order to do so. I don’t want to disappoint her. My stomach continues to growl.

The forest becomes significantly hotter and more moist the further in we travel. I feel like I’ve sweat out all the water in my body. I don’t understand how Nell is faring while covered in animal hide. I force myself to hide the exhaustion setting in, as best I can, but I can’t help but breathe heavily. It cools my throat. At least a little bit.

But it also stings to breathe. Despite the humidity around me, my lips are dry and chapped. I find it difficult to swallow. The sounds of chittering insects are filling my ears, some I’ve never heard before. My shoulders are tense, hands twitching occasionally. I notice I’m not sweating anymore.

I realize last night I slept in that tree, not in a cell. I didn’t have any meat or water then. I need sustenance, but I haven’t the slightest idea how to get it out here. I have to risk hoping Nell will provide it to me. Until she does, I must endure.

The sun is in the process of setting. Nell speaks for the first time since we began hiking. “It isn’t much further.”

I don’t have a clue how she would know that, as it all looks the same to me. I have no choice but to trust her. I’m struggling to keep my breathing from sounding too ragged. I don’t want Nell to find me weak. I need to be useful.

I fail her when I can no longer make my muscles do what I want them to do. My legs give out beneath me and I find myself on my hands and knees, as my body forcibly purges my guts. Nothing but clear liquid comes out, burning my chest and throat. I heave a few more times, but even the burning fluid no longer comes out. I’m empty.

I roll over onto my back right next to my stomach lining. I desperately struggle to swallow air. I can’t get anything inside. I realize Nell is kneeling next to me, but I can’t hear anything she’s saying. Then everything goes numb.

~~~

_ CRACK! _

Water splashes onto my face, and I see a blurry figure standing over me.

“Wake up.” A woman’s voice commands.

I don’t know where I am. I’m lying down inside of a tent on a soft white rug. I start to hyperventilate. A damp cloth rests on my forehead, and my ankle appears to be wrapped in some sort of linen binding. My heart pounds rapidly.

_ CRACK! _

A cold hand smacks across my face, just hard enough to get my attention. I see Nell kneeling next to me. The cool sting on my cheek lingers for a short moment.

“Calm yourself. Slow your breathing.” Her words are rushed and worried. I do as she says to the best of my ability.

She holds out a skin of water toward me. “Drink.” She beckons.

_ Water. _

A thirst I’d been unaware of before suddenly manifests within me, and I wrest the canteen from her hands, unthinking. The first few gulps are painful, but my throat is soothed before long. Once the canteen is empty, I realize almost half of it spilled out down my chin. I’m still thirsty, but I feel much better than I did before.

Nell is still beside me, and I feel ashamed for my display of desperation just a moment before. I don’t know what to say. I avoid eye contact with her, staring at my knees instead.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

I can’t answer that. “What happened?” I demand. I feel the urge to berate myself for being so brusque with her, for forgetting my place.

“You started spewing bile, and then you passed out. I’m guessing heat stroke.”

“I’m sorry.” Disappointment in myself wells up within me.

“Don’t be. I should have noticed you were suffering from heat exhaustion with how much you were sweating and breathing so heavily. When you fell unconscious, I carried you the rest of the way here. It wasn’t very much further and, to be honest, you’re pretty light.”

A short, half-hearted laugh escapes her mouth after she says that. Her lips curve up at one corner, and for some reason, I want to smile back at her. I don’t.

“When was the last time you ate?” Her expression is back to being serious again.

I remember my cell, where I used to sleep every night. I see the pot of warm water in the corner, with the charred slab of meat soaking inside. I realize I might never see that room again. It’s already been at least two days, but I can’t be sure. “A few days ago. I don’t know.”

Apparently that answer makes her angry. “Why didn’t you say anything!?”

“It isn’t your responsibility.”

Nell exhales audibly, clearly displeased. “Your wellbeing became my responsibility when I decided to help you.”

“You don’t have to. I still don’t understand why you care.”

Silence. A few moments pass before she speaks again, so quietly that it’s difficult to hear her. “Not everyone is the same as them.”

“Who?” I don’t know what she’s talking about.

“Your mast—” She cuts herself off. “The people who did that to you.” Her eyes appear to be locked on the numbers burned into my chest.

My mind returns to the stone courtyard, with the watchtowers manned by crossbowmen guarding our taskmasters down below, walking among us, snapping their whips.

_ CRACK! _

I realize that I’d never considered there might be more people in the world. I had only thought about the courtyard being where people existed. Or stopped existing. There were buildings adjacent to those walls that led to more stone pavement. I’d never seen much of the encampment. It must have been huge. Where did the taskmasters sleep? Where were all of the children? People have to be children before they’re adults.

Where was I when I was a child? I can’t remember. I try, but my mind is drawing blanks. I don’t want to think anymore.

_ “How can you not know who you are?”  _ Nell’s past voice echoes the new thoughts in my mind.

_ CRACK! _

“Hey!” Nell is holding a fist-sized red ball with a twig coming out of it. “Eat this, before you pass out again. I’m roasting some hares for you too.

She hands the strange orb to me, and then waits expectantly. I stare at the thing in my hand. It feels solid, but slightly squishy on the inside.

“You look like you’re trying to read upside down. Are you alright?” Her voice is mixed with concern and amusement.

“What is it?” I ask, my eyes not leaving the thing in my hands. I try to pull the twig out of it, but it doesn’t budge.

Nell giggles and leans her face into her palm. I don’t see what’s so funny. She grabs the object out of my hands and bites into it. It crunches noisily.

“It’s an apple.” She hands the thing back to me, revealing it is a bright yellow underneath the red shell. Some slightly sticky moisture leaks out of it. “You’ve never eaten an apple before?”

“No.” I’ve never even seen one of these before.

“Well, apples are fruit. So they’re good to eat.” I stare at the twig coming out of the top. “Trust me, you’ll like it.”

“But there’s a stick in it.”

“That’s not--!” Nell groans with exaggeration. “Just eat around it.”

At her request, I bite the apple. I feel my eyes sting when the skin breaks and a burst of liquid soaks itself under my tongue. It tastes beautiful, infinitely greater than the meat I had consumed for almost every day of my life prior to now. The succulent juices that don’t drip down my chin seem to stick to my tongue, and I hope the sensation lasts forever.

She smiles at me, satisfied. “Good. I was worried I’d have had to force feed it to you. Keep eating that, I’m going to go check the fire outside.”

I don’t respond, as my mouth is full. Half of the apple is gone before she can even exit the tent we’re in. The flaps close behind her as she steps outside. I finish the fruit shortly after, though I leave the stick in it untouched.

_ Now what? _

I’m left alone inside the tent, and I realize the only source of light is the glow of a fire outside. It must be night time. I can’t help but feel cramped, the tent is awfully small.

Nell returns through the flaps with two rabbits skewered by a sharpened stick. They’re cooked to a deep, brown hue. I’ve only ever seen meat charred black or mostly red and raw.

She crouches down beside me, handing me the branch with the rabbits on it. “I hope that’s enough. I don’t know how hungry you must be. We’ll try and do some hunting on our way North tomorrow.”

It’s more than enough. It’s the best meal I’ve ever tasted. Ignoring my better judgment, I scarf it all down in a few short moments. Nell watches with a concerned, intrigued expression that leaves me with a mix of confusing feelings. She takes the sharpened branch away as soon as I finish.

“Get some rest. I’ll wake you at dawn…” Her sentence seems to linger, as if she has something else to say, before she exits the tent in silence, I see her silhouette move next to the dim glow of the fire, before it is snuffed out, leaving me alone in darkness.

At first I wonder if I should be worried, but I figure Nell would warn me if something happened. I let myself succumb to unconsciousness as I wonder if I’m right to trust her so much.


	5. Into the Wetlands

_I awake to the touch of someone’s hand resting on my shoulder. A voice whispers in my ear, “Wake up…”_

_CRACK!_

_"Wake up, 457!"_

_“Still asleep. Pathetic whelp! On your feet now!”_

_I scramble to my feet as fast as I can, straightening my posture, but it’s already too late. I brace myself for the coming blows I’ve learned to expect by now. My back cramps and seizes up before the first impact is made._

_CRACK!_

“Stop!” Nell is yelling at me. I stop moving.

My wrists are bound tightly in her hands, held down by my sides.

“Calm down.” Her voice is stern, not necessarily calming.

I’m outside. A burnt-out campfire lies cold by my feet. The tent I’d spent the last night in is disheveled. The front end of it has collapsed away from the main foundation. I see it’s merely held up by rough-hewn sticks, covered by animal hides. Several of the branches are loose or scattered now.

I catch my breath, and Nell releases me. I’m frozen in place, muscles twitching to remind me that time is still passing.

“Are you alright?” I can tell Nell is looking at me. I avoid her eyes, staring at the tent instead.

“I’m sorry. I’ll fix this.”

“No. Forget it. We won’t be returning here anyways. We’re heading north, to the wetlands, remember? Gotta deal with that vein-rot before it gets to be dangerous.”

I nod my head in response. My heart still feels like it’s glued to my spine. This woman has done nothing but help me, and is still working to save my life. All I’ve been to her is a problem. How am I going to make it up to her? What does she want from me?

Nell speaks again, hesitantly. “So… bad dream, huh?”

I lie and shake my head. “I just… forgot where I was.”

“Oh…” She sounds like she has more to say, but she changes the subject. “So are you ready to set off?”

“Yeah.”

She looks to the sky a moment, facing where the sun seems to be coming from through the trees, then turns to her left. “This way is north. Follow me. If we’re lucky, we could be there by nightfall.”

The sooner, the better. I don’t know how long I have, though Nell doesn’t seem too worried. “Alright, here’s the deal. We don’t really have the time to teach you to hunt yourself, but I can at least start by teaching you how to move while we’re on the way there.”

This announcement takes me by surprise, but she has my full attention.

“Trail close behind me, and watch where and how I place my feet. I want you to follow my footsteps as closely as you can. Step softly, and don’t make any sudden movements. If you see me bring my hand up like this,” she makes a fist, “I want you to get low and keep quiet. You got all that?”

I nod.

“It’s dawn, so now’s the best time to hunt. We’ll focus more on covering distance later today.” With that, she starts to walk in the direction she says is north.

She keeps to a slight crouch, her legs just slightly bowed at the knees. I try to mock her movements and the way she places her feet, but I have no idea if I’m doing a good job or not. I continue to blindly follow her through the forest.

~

A good portion of the day must have passed, no words have been exchanged. Nell barely acknowledges my presence, her head seeming to be on a constant swivel. Occasionally she stops, as if she heard something, but I never notice anything unusual.

Nell brings her fist up suddenly, and I get as low as I can. She takes an arrow from her quiver, and pulls back on her bowstring, stopping just before it begins to creak. Then she aims off in the distance somewhere, becoming a statue.

Nothing happens…

Still nothing. I try to see what she’s aiming at, but all it seems to be is a bush.

_We’re wasting time._

I’m just about ready to break her rule and ask her what’s going on, but before I decide to, she suddenly tenses up, pulling her bowstring further back, making the wood bend and groan sharply.

The bush she’d been aiming at rustles as a rabbit quickly darts out from the side.

**_THWIP!_ **

In a split second, the arrow she’d been holding became lodged in the rabbit’s hind leg. She quickly runs over to her prey, pulling a knife out of her boot. The rabbit doesn’t even seem to struggle as she finishes it off.

“Hvass!” She stands and exhales with her head bowed to the ground. “Not my cleanest kill.” Her tone is somber.

“What do you mean?”

Nell sharply inhales, as if I said something wrong, but she pauses, breathes out again, and answers calmly. “See where my arrow struck? Right through its haunch, where most of the meat is. That means most of the meat is wasted, or there’ll at least be shards of bone splintered throughout that part. Not only that, but I prefer to kill my prey instantly, so they don’t have to feel much pain. The rabbit lived through the first shot.” She looks somber.

I try to make her feel better.

“Pain doesn’t matter. Survival does. If I die, I die. It doesn’t matter if my death is painful or not. All I care about is whether I live or die. The rabbit is dead. I think that’s all it would care about now.”

Her eyes flash with anger. Again, it appears I’ve said something wrong. A long silence ensues. Despite the look she gave me, her voice sounds sad. “But if you had to die, wouldn’t you prefer it to be painless?”

Pain doesn’t make much of a difference to me. “I’m used to it.” I reply.

I can’t help but feel guilty for her dark expression. She doesn’t look at me, instead picking up the rabbit’s corpse and tying it by its feet around her belt.

Nell suddenly changes her demeanor. “We’ve spent too much time hunting if we’re going to reach the wetlands before sundown.”

One rabbit won’t keep even one of us full for long. “Could we hunt more in the wetlands?”

“Not exactly, but there will be food. Fair warning, though… cattails don’t taste as good as rabbit.” She throws an unsettling smile my way.

I don’t know what a cattail is, but everything she’s fed me so far has tasted better than anything I’d experienced before, so I’m not concerned about that. “As long as it sustains us, I don’t care about the taste.”

Her smile fades back to a blank expression, and with that, we’re heading north again, at a much faster pace.

~

“Stop watching my feet.” Nell breaks the silence as I follow behind her. “You’re too focused on matching my footsteps exactly, it makes you too tense.”

“But you said to watch where—”

“I know what I said.” She cuts me off. “But it isn’t working for you. Your movements need to feel your own, to be natural. Let your body flow through the forest. Quit being so… mechanical.”

“I don’t understand what you mean by that. How can my body flow?”

“It’s a metaphor. I can’t really explain it, just… try not to think about it so much. Watch the land, not my feet. Rely on your reflexes, not what you’ve been told.”

“But if you just told me not to rely on what I’ve been told…”

“I didn’t—urgh! You’re impossible!”

I don’t respond. Nell turns and continues walking north. With guts made of lead, I continue following her. My eyes still stare at the ground, but I’m not watching her feet anymore.

She’s trying to teach me, but I don’t get it. I should have picked up on it by now. If she were like any other taskmaster, I’d be dead by now. I continue to disappoint, yet still she’s leading me north, helping me. What use am I to her?

I trip on a vine while heading down an incline, forcing me to forget about answering my own question.

_“Watch the land.”_ Nell’s voice echoes in my head.

Nell looks over her shoulder at me with concern, and I stand up as quick as possible, not allowing myself to fall behind. I think I see her smile, but her eyes look sad. Like she pities me. That makes me angry.

_“Try not to think about it so much.”_

I clench my teeth and forget about her, forcing myself to focus on where I’m walking. I only occasionally glance at Nell to make sure I haven’t lost her, or that she hasn’t abandoned me. Still, whenever I look, she’s right where I expect her to be, a few dozen paces ahead.

She could go wherever she wanted to at any given moment. Me, I only have one way to go, and that’s north, to the wetlands. I don’t know anything about the wetlands, or even how to recognize north. I only know what Nell tells me. I have no choice but to follow her.

~

“Feel the air?” Nell asks suddenly, catching me off guard. “I think we’re almost there.”

At first I don’t understand what she means by ‘feel the air’, but I can’t help admitting that it feels much more humid than before, so I assume she meant that.

The forest floor feels softer, and trees are becoming sparse. I feel like the grass is turning a darker shade. Insects and bugs are everywhere now, creating a deafening chorus that makes me uneasy. I find myself missing the absolute silence of my cell at night, despite how it used to be deafening in its own way.

**_Squilch…_ **

My ankle suddenly sinks all the way into the ground, and I stumble down to my hands and knees. The soil consumes my arms up to my elbows, and my thighs are halfway submerged in a mix of mud and dirt as well.

I attempt to rise back to my feet, but the ground won’t release my limbs.

“BE STILL!” Nell screams from somewhere in the distance ahead of me. I must have started lagging behind.

I obey the words without hesitation. Slowly, though, I feel myself being pulled further into the earth. My chin is almost touching the liquid land below me.

“Good, now just hold on! Keep as still as you can! I’m gonna get you out of there!”

I’m incapable of doing anything but holding on, as I wait for Nell to do whatever it is she’s planning.

“Listen…” she announces a few paces away from me. “You’re just out of my reach, but the only way you’re getting out of there is if I pull you out.”

“Okay.” So what she’s saying is that she can’t get me out, and I’m going to drown in dirt. Great.

“So... this isn’t going to be very comfortable,” she continues, “but it’s the best thing I can think of.”

She doesn’t give me a chance to figure out what she means by that, as suddenly my head is hooked in between her bows limbs and its string. The bowstring bites into my skin, creating an intense burning sensation that would cause me to cry out if I could breathe.

Using the crook of her bow to grab me, Nell yanks me toward her just enough to hook her wrist through my armpit, choking me as the false ground is reluctant to release it’s hold on me.

Suddenly, the tension is released, as I feel my hands being ripped free from the clutches of the swamp bed, and I’m flung flat on my back on solid ground. Hoarse coughs escape me, burning the front of my throat with every breath I take.

I’m caked in mud up to my elbows, and my ankle still appears to be stuck in the ground. Now that I have something to grab onto, I’m able to wrench it free myself.

“Are you alright?” Nell asks, reminding me yet again that she’s the only reason I still exist.

_“I’m tired of hearing that question.”_ I answer in my head, though I don’t say those words out loud.

“Please, say something.” Nell pleads.

“What!?” I snap, my voice rough. Nell looks worried, scared. Immediately I avert my gaze.

_CRACK!_

**_‘Know your place.’_ **

I’m angry at myself, not at her. I try to change my tone. “Sorry… I’m fine.” I mutter. I stifle a cough inflating in the back of my throat. My neck feels as if her bowstring was still across it, leaving a burning sensation that isn’t entirely foreign to me.

I stand up to see Nell staring at me expectantly. I don’t say anything. The look on her face doesn’t make sense to me. She seems scared, almost pained. A brief, awkward silence ensues.

I don’t put up with it for long. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Sad. You look sad. Like I make you sad. Why?”

“You don’t--” Nell cuts herself off and sighs. “Forget it, we can talk about this later. We need to find a bloodsucker pond and make camp.”

“Fine.” Part of me feels confused and wants to understand why Nell seems so strange, but for once, she makes sense by focusing on the task at hand, which I’m comfortable with. Nevertheless, I keep catching myself thinking about Nell and why she seems so different.

_Focus._

“No more daydreaming. You need to be on your guard here. Watch where you step. Not all of the ground here is sturdy enough to walk on.”

I bite my tongue as I think she should have mentioned that earlier, and follow her lead deeper into this disturbing land.


	6. What Lies Ahead

While the wetlands were strange and new at first, the landscape quickly grew monotonous and dreary. The sounds of insects all around became nothing but background noise, a constant fuzz in the back of my mind, dulling my thoughts but keeping me on edge. The tree bark is so dark, it blends with the dirt below. Small patches of grass are intermittently spread across the mushy ground, most of it seemingly buried beneath layers of muck and grime.

Occasionally our progress is hindered when Nell stops ahead of me and says the ground will give out if we continue in that direction. Sometimes we just divert our path for a little ways, sometimes we have to backtrack quite far before she picks another way for us to loop around. It all looks the same to me, and I don’t know what to look out for.

The marshes are already dark beneath the dense canopy of tree foliage blocking most of the sunlight. What little light I can see is becoming a mild shade of grey.

**THOOM!**

Thunder. Clouds must be coming in. That means it’s going to rain soon.

My muscles involuntarily twitch from time to time. Is it the vein-rot? Or am I just cold? The air does feel much chillier in these damp woodlands. But stopping to look at the state of my arm, I see my veins are completely opaque from my fingers, extending just past my elbow.

I nearly stumble into Nell as I realize she’s come to a sudden halt.

“You see that?”

“See what?” I don’t see anything but dirt, mud, and dark trees.

“Off in the distance. Between those two trees, the ones kind of bent towards each other.”

She points ahead, and I try to figure out she’s talking about, but anything beyond the trees she’s described and the obscured horizon is extremely blurry to me. Nothing really stands out. After adjusting my eyes for a moment, the only significant difference to me is that I see grey, very far away.

“Something is grey. That’s all I can tell.”

“Looks like it might be a cave. Or at least a mountain.”

“Does water come from mountains or caves?”

“Sometimes. Maybe not from mountains, exactly… But a cave in these parts is bound to have a pool of stagnant water somewhere within. Fingers crossed!”

“What?”

Nell sighs. “It’s… a thing people say when they’re hoping for something. For good luck, you know?”

“No.”

**_‘Hope is the last thing a person does before they are defeated.’_ **

Nell stares at me in silence for a moment, forcing me to look away.

“You’ll learn, with time. Hopefully a lot of things you don’t understand will start to make sense. Just… give it time?” The sigh she makes in between pauses and the tone in her voice makes my heart deflate for some reason.

With that, Nell turns around and heads toward the grey blob in the distance. I hesitantly follow suit behind her, trying to stop myself from thinking about what she meant by that.

As we approach the grey matter in the distance, it begins to take shape as an overhang of solid rock, with a large opening beneath it.

“Perfect, a rock shelter!” Nell immediately heads inside, showing no semblance of the caution she usually employs. Couldn’t something else be living inside? Regardless, I have to follow after her. She probably knows what she’s doing, so I try not to worry.

Entering the cave, I am reminded of my cell. It’s dark and damp. My eyes quickly adjust to the dim lighting. It’s a wide room, and the ground is soft, but not mushy like the muddy ground outside. For the first time since I last slept in my cell, I feel almost comfortable.

“Look over here. Water! Exactly what we need.”

I lazily drift over to the far corner where Nell is standing, and see a pool of murky, brown liquid, with a bittersweet shimmer in the low lighting conditions. It almost appears orange.

“That’s water?” I inquire, unconvinced by its strange appearance. Isn’t water supposed to be clear?

“It’s stagnant, dirty, and blood-tinged. Not the kind of water you’d want to drink. But it’s what we want. I’m certain there’s a bloodsucker living in there. Along with more than a few salamanders that feel a bit pale… and aren’t living anymore.”

I can’t see anything under the surface of the water, which makes me uneasy. The pool of water isn’t particularly large, but I haven’t the slightest idea how deep it is or how far it might lead.

“So what do I do?”

“Well, we want the bleeder to latch onto you ahead of where the vein-rot has spread, so, in your case, above the elbow. Bloodsuckers only like to hug bare skin, so, I’m thinking we wrap your forearm up in a rag of fur, which I can spare, and then we put your arm in the water until one starts clinging to your bicep. And then we wait. Simple, really.”

Suddenly I’m not so eager to cure myself of this vein-rot. The thought of some creature drinking my blood makes me queasy.

“What will it look like?”

“The bloodsucker? I’d say they’re kind of like tiny squids. You know what a squid is right?”

I shake my head.

“Well, their head is like a… a big, squishy, um… sack… and they’ve got tentacles dangling from the sides, and… yeah. There’s not much else to say about them. They usually kill and drink the blood of small animals that come close to the water’s edges wherever they live, like lizards and squirrels. They’re pretty much harmless to humans, though, unless there’s several of them. But their groups are usually pretty small. Regardless, you just need one.”

“Let’s just get it over with.”

“I agree. The sooner, the better. Now, hold out your arm.”

I obey, and Nell unwraps one of the furs clothing her own wrist, tying it around my forearm, leaving only the skin above my elbow exposed.

“Now, put your arm in the water. All the way down to the shoulder.”

Hesitantly, I stroke the surface of the water first. It’s extremely cold, sending shivers down my spine. The surface of the water ripples under my touch for a moment, before quickly returning to a disturbing stagnance. Nevertheless, I have no choice but to put my arm in and let whatever lurks beneath to feed off of me.

I plunge my arm in all at once, which chills me to the core. The water displaces around my arm, causing a slight overflow to spill across the natural barrier containing the pool. The water takes a moment to settle, before a deep, eerie silence fills the grotto.

And now we wait.

Nell looks at me intently, while I search for an object I can focus on to distract myself. Unfortunately, nothing stands out, and I find myself awkwardly glancing at Nell and staring at the swill my arm is currently submerged in.

“How long should it take?”

Nell doesn’t have to answer my question, as I suddenly feel a tight pressure on my arm, causing me to jerk my arm out of the water.

“DON’T!” Nell shouts, restraining both of my wrists before I’m able to grasp at the source of the pressure on my arm.

A grotesque creature is attached to my arm. Four tentacles keep the parasite firmly in position. A bony, spiny tube connects the four tentacles to a pale, gelatinous sack, which is all the creature seems to be. I see no eyes, no sign of sentience in the being before me. It’s disturbing, to say the least.

“Let it be. Just try to ignore it. We can’t remove it just yet.”

Nell is trying to console me, but I’m busy observing the pathetic mass draining the life from me. The sack rhythmically expands and contracts, sending strange pulsing sensations through my arm. It’s steadily growing numb.

“My arm feels like it’s dying.”

“Just try not to think about it, okay? You’ll be fine. Just relax.”

I sit down and lean my back against the cave wall, all the while focused on the disgusting ‘squid’ constricting my bicep. Nell kneels down beside me.

“Stop staring at it.”

I respond, though I don’t stop looking at the thing on my arm. It’s making me feel… tired. Weak. I don’t like it.

“So… once we’re done with this… I’m cured, right?”

“Yep. You’ll be all good.”

“And then what?” I haven’t the slightest clue of what I should do with myself once I rid myself of the vein-rot.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what next? Where do I go? What do I do?” My gaze shifts down to my knees.

“Well, what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No. I just want to do what I’m supposed to do.”

“And what are you supposed to do?”

“I don’t know that either.”

“Well, I think you’re supposed to do what you want to do.”

“That doesn’t help answer my question.”

“I know it doesn’t.”

Nell grins at me, looking amused with herself, before she continues.

“Well, we can always just walk until the day turns interesting.”

“What about a base?”

“Base? What do you mean, base? Like a home?”

“Where I… used to live. My masters would call it base. We’d wake up there, leave, work, and then ‘return to base’ once the sun started to go down.”

“Don’t… don’t call them your masters.”

“What else should I call them? That’s what they were.”

“First of all, they aren’t masters at all, of anyone. They’re oppressors. Not masters. A good master gives, rather than takes. The Anedonians only take, and take, and take. And what they can’t take, they break.”

I want to argue, tell her that they gave me a consistent place to rest every night, in my cell, and that I knew that I’d be fed every night, unless I did something wrong beforehand; instead I keep my mouth shut. I don’t want conflict with her, and… part of me wants to agree with her words. But there are still things I don’t understand, about her, about the Anedonian Empire, about my place. Life used to be so much simpler. Just thinking is making me feel nauseous.

“And regardless of what you might have considered them to be, they have no power over you anymore. You’re a free man now.”

I hate it when she says things like that; that I’m free, in control of my own life… It’s as if she doesn’t even realize what a blatant lie that is. I can’t keep myself silent about it any longer.

“I am not a free man. I am nothing. On my own, out there, in the world, I would die in less than three days. I’d have died several times over if you hadn’t been there to save me. My existence isn’t in my possession. It’s all up to you. If you hadn’t decided to help me before, my fate would have been sealed. You could have just as easily killed me, sending an arrow through my heart. You could still decide to do that at any moment. I belong to you now, whether I like it or not.”

“What are you trying to say? That I should have left you to die before? That you want me to leave now?”

It’s too dark to make out the expression on Nell’s face, but I can hear her voice starting to crack. I’m making her sad again. I have to stop this.

“No… no. I just… Don’t lie to me. I’m not free. I can never be free.”

“I’m not…” Nell cuts herself off with a sigh. “I get it. But I promise that will change.” She looks down, not saying anything further. I take it as an opportunity to ask my question.

“What am I doing that keeps making you sad?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Every time we talk, I can tell. You just look sad. Why?”

She hesitates, thinking for a moment before answering. “I feel like I hurt you. Your neck… my bowstring left a mark across it, when I pulled you out of that mudpit.”

I put my hand on my throat, feeling the rough skin. I can’t see it. I wonder if it will scar.

**_‘You have been marked so that you will never forget where you belong.’_ **

But I don’t believe her answer. “It wasn’t just then. I noticed you doing it before that happened. I see it in your eyes often. You seem as if it causes you pain to look at me.”

Nell audibly exhales, turning her head away, still speaking to me. “You want me to be completely honest?”

“Why wouldn’t I want that?”

She shakes her head, pausing for a long moment before responding.

“I pity you. That’s why I want to help you. You’ve suffered so much, and you don’t even realize it. Life is so much better than what you’ve experienced.”

“Maybe to you. For me, what I’ve experienced is life. I’ve dealt with it, and I’d be fine with continuing to deal with it. But I can’t go back. So now everything is just… complicated.”

Nell turns on me again, narrowing her eyes. “You’re going to have to deal with change, then. Your life became a whole lot more complicated on the night before I even found you in the first place. Get used to it.” She looks surprised at her own harsh voice. “Look, I… I promise you it’ll be better than being… used to pain.”

She has me there. My life is different now. It’s going to be different from now on. The number on my chest doesn’t mean anything anymore; someone else has had the same one branded onto them, occupying the same cell I had, answering to the same words during roll call. And they don’t matter to me either. I can never go back, even if I wanted to. I thought I did.

But with Nell right in front of me, I can’t keep myself believing I want to return to my old life. Sure, I’m used to pain… but I still don’t like it. I want this new life Nell has offered me, something I’ve hardly begun to understand. The thought of the unknown is terrifying me, yet I can’t stop myself from wondering anymore. I have to know.

“I just… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“The only way to make sense out of change is to let it happen, and it’ll take you along for the ride. Or you can remain the way you are, trapped in your old world that doesn’t exist anymore, lost in nostalgia for your life as… as a slave.”

“No.”

The words I want to speak don’t come easily. It’s hard to think, and harder to say what I think. I feel extremely tired all of a sudden. My head feels heavy, as if it were filled with warm steel.

“No?”

“I don’t want that. I don’t want to go back. I want… change.”

“Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

I had meant to tell her that I wanted her. Strange as she is, I like being with her. Still, the words that came out of my mouth must have been good enough, so I don’t bother clarifying.

“Okay.”

Okay is the only word I can think to say at that point. I want to be happy, happy that I made Nell happy for once. Deep down, I feel terrified, terrified of what could happen in the future, if… no, when Nell finally leaves me to ‘be free’. But in this moment, with Nell watching over me, looking into her dark, warm eyes, I just feel… content, as the numbness I’d been ignoring in my arm suddenly washes over the rest of me, and I am severed from the world.


	7. Dreams of the Past

**_Thump-thump-thump!_ **

_ “A moment, please!” A familiar female voice rings out hurriedly. _

_ A muffled, imposing, cold man’s voice comes from outside. _

_ “This is the dwelling of Matron Essien, mother of Neofen Enoch! Is it not?” _

_ “Yes, that’s right! Hold a moment!” She calls out to the man. Then she turns to me, kneeling, and puts both hands on my shoulders, whispering, “Enoch, go to your room and be quiet for me, okay? I love you.” My mother kisses my forehead. “Now go.” _

_ Then my vision is clouded, and all I can hear are faint voices. _

_ “Matron Essien, if you would--” _

_ “I know, I’m coming!” _

_ Pause. I hear the door swing open. _

_ “Sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting any visitors today.” _

_ “I am not here to visit. I am Reckoner Garric. You are aware of why I am here, are you not?” _

_ “Yes, but I don’t have any money to spare.” _

_ “Matron, you’re already a month past due.” _

_ “I have a child to feed, to keep clothed. I barely have enough money to do that. Surely you understand?” _

_ “I understand that you cannot make your payment. And someone who cannot pay their dues cannot live here.” _

_ “Am I being exiled?” _

_ “Not yet. There are two ways this exchange can go. You are--” _

_ “Don’t bother. I’m not giving up my son to become a number.” _

_ “Then, yes, you will be exiled.” _

_ “How long do I have?” _

_ “Until I finish my rounds here and report on what collections were made. Then it’s out of my hands. Could be a week, could be hours.” _

_ “Is there anything I can do?” _

_ “Don’t be here when the Keepers arrive. You don’t live here anymore.” _

_ …  _

_ Silence. Everything is dark and quiet. All I can see is a foggy haze in front of my face. I wonder if I’m asleep. There’s no telling how much time has passed. _

_ Then the smoke around me turns orange, and I sense something chasing after me. Man, beast, monster, I don’t know. All I know is that it’s right behind me now. Heat begins to batter me from all sides. I feel it’s fingers grabbing my shoulder. My throat tightens. I can’t breathe. With my last breath I scream out one word. _

**_“MOTHER!”_ **

~

I wake up stifling a scream, as my words from the fade world struggle to crawl up my throat into this one. I suppress the shout, but impact it has in my body leaks out through every breath. I’m shivering, and I can’t see anything. Night must have fallen.

Something touches my arm again, and I leap away from it, scrambling to my feet. Is the nightmare not over?

“Hey-hey, relax. It’s just me.”

“Nell?”

“Yeah. Are you okay? You’ve been muttering in your sleep.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? I thought I heard--”

“Not… not right now.”

I don’t even know what I was dreaming about. My body wasn’t my own. I was somebody else. I had a name. A mother. And the worst thing is that I feel like I knew her. The child whose eyes I was seeing through, I felt all of the affection he had for her as if it were my own. Yet I don’t know either of them. I can’t even remember what they looked like.

“Hello? Are you gonna answer me or not?” Nell snaps me back to the present, making me remember she was talking to me.

“W-what?”

She sighs in exasperation. “I asked you if you wanted to freeze to death.”

“N-no?” I’m not sure how else I’m supposed to answer that.

“Then come back over here. The marshlands get extremely cold at night, and this is the only dry spot in this cave. The wood around here is too soaked to be able to start a fire.”

She’s right, it’s freezing cold right now. I can hear myself shivering profusely.

I hesitantly lower myself back to where I was lying before, scooting myself over so I won’t wind up too close to Nell.

Regardless, I feel her presence right next to me. I lay on my side, turning my back to her. I want to intrude as little as possible on her space.

She doesn’t seem to have the same intentions, as she rolls even closer to me, reaching her arm over my shoulder, pulling me against her. Every part of me tenses up, and my breathing stops.

“Fah, you’re such a shrinking violet, you know that?”

“No.” I haven’t the slightest idea what a shrinking violet is. It sounds like a plant. I am not a plant.

“Then what’s got you strung up so tight?”

“You’re acting strange.”

“You’re being an idiot.”

“How?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea from this, but you have hardly any clothes on. It’s freezing right now, and I’m sure any beast within a thousand paces could hear your shivering sooner than it’d smell you. And trust me, you have a strong scent.”

“I can handle being cold.”

“I’m sure you can. But I can’t sleep with your breathing making this entire cavern shake. So I’m going to keep you warm anyways. Can you handle that?”

“I… guess. Yeah.”

“Good. Now go back to sleep. We’ve still awhile to wait before dawn.”

“O-okay.”

I feel Nell silently giggling with her pressed against my back. I can’t deny that I like how this feels; I’m actually warm, laying in Nell’s arms, covered in the soft animal hides she wears as clothing. Part of me wishes I could have furs of my own. But here, now, in her arms, my wishes might as well already have been granted.

“So how does your arm feel?”

It takes me a moment before I realize she’s referring to the bloodsucker bite. I hadn’t even noticed it was gone.

“I don’t feel anything different. Should I?”

“As long as you can feel your arm, then all is well.”

“Where is the… blood… thing?”

“I cut it off of you in your sleep. The skin around was starting to turn gray, and the vein-rot seemed to have been fully drained. I threw it back into its little pool of water over there. It served its purpose. Trust me, you don’t want to see how much blood it took from you.”

I don’t press the issue.

“So now what?”

“Unfortunately, the bloodsucker will probably die, as it drank your tainted blood. But on the other hand, you probably won’t, so, fair trade.” She giggles to herself.

“That’s not what I was asking about.” I don’t care about the bloodsucker. I just want to know what we’re going to do tomorrow, now that she’s cured me of my vein-rot.

“I know.” is her only response. I don’t push the question. Instead, I try my best to relax in Nell’s arms. It doesn’t take me as long as I had initially thought it would.

Heavy rain falls outside of the cave, but it isn’t an alarming sound. It’s actually peacefully silent in the darkness of the cave. The faint noises of the marshlands outside are insignificant here. Nell’s soft breathing is the loudest sound to be heard, the only one I’m able to focus on. The steady rhythm of each hot breath gliding down the back of my neck makes my little hairs stand on end. Warm chills run down my spine, and that’s all it takes for Nell to quickly lull me to sleep.

~~~

The realm of the fade didn’t drag me anywhere this time. The rest of the night was… blank. Tranquil. I don’t remember exactly when I fell asleep, nor do I know how long I’ve slept. All I know is that time has passed, judging by the dim sunlight shining through the opening to our cove.

Nell is no longer lying beside me. But I see she’s kneeling down on one knee at the cave entrance, looking outside. Watching the approach. Guarding the perimeter.

_ Protecting me. _

My stomach gurgles, reminding me of life’s necessities. We hadn’t had anything to eat since two nights ago, after Nell dragged me to her camp, unconscious, dehydrated, and starving. I wasn’t even aware of how hungry I’d been then. Hunger and thirst are things I’ve learned to ignore.

_ Apparently that makes her angry. “Why didn’t you say anything?” _

Remembering that moment, I realize Nell probably doesn’t want me to ignore my own needs anymore. Regardless, I’m not going to say anything. I don’t think she’s eaten anything since then either. There’s no sense in bringing up problems she’s already aware of.

“It’s a lovely dawn. You should come over here and see it.”

Nell must be speaking to me. She hadn’t even turned her head to glance in my direction. How did she know I’d awoken? I’m too groggy to worry about asking her. She’s strange, and that answers plenty.

I shouldn’t let it bother me though. She’s on my side, an ally, or as she would say, a  _ friend _ .

“I know you’re up, ya know. You’re being too quiet. Now find your feet and come on over here. The view is wonderful.”

I struggle to stand myself up; my right arm is unreasonably weak. It doesn’t hurt, but it offers me hardly any support in lifting myself to stand upright. It must still be drained. Nevertheless, I manage.

Nell still doesn’t turn her head to acknowledge me as I walk up beside her. I guess she doesn’t have to. She knows I’m there.

The two of us keep silent, and I start to listen to the sounds of the wetlands outside. It’s even quieter than it was at night. A chorus of insects chirp and rattle, their song resonating throughout the entire marsh. I don’t care much for most insects when I see one, but I have to admit, when they’re spread out in the wild, making their noise in unison, they sound absolutely beautiful.

A fine mist is spread all around, covering the trees and the ground with a thin, grey veil, almost like a haze of smoke, only… prettier.

“Hey.”

“Uh, hey.”

“How did you sleep?”

“What?”

“Did you sleep well? You tossed and turned a lot in your sleep before, but last night, after you woke up the first time, you were… unusually tame. Peaceful, even.”

“I guess so. I didn’t dream of anything, so that was nice.”

“You don’t like to dream?”

“No.”

“What do you usually dream about?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, you can talk to me. It’s not like there’s anyone else to talk to, anyways.”

“Sometimes I’m back in my cell, sometimes I go back to days I didn’t like, sometimes I’m being chased, I don’t know. The fade is strange. Scary. I don’t like it.”

“You usually have nightmares, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“What were you dreaming about before you woke up in the middle of the night?”

“I don’t know.”

“You talk in your sleep, too. I heard you mumbling things, mostly what sounded like names. ‘Essien’, ‘Enoch’, ‘Garric’, I think I even heard you say ‘Mother’… I’m curious… I, um, I don’t mean to pry, but…” For once, she’s the one stumbling over her words.

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but I know what she means. She wants to talk about it. My dreams. Apparently I let them seep through into the real world as I sleep.

“I was… in this boy’s body. Young, short, barely even a child. And there was this woman, a woman who… feels like she should be… familiar to me, but I just can’t recognize her. She called the boy, the body I was in, Enoch. Then a man came over. Knocked on the door. The woman told me to hide, or leave, or stay quiet, I don’t know. The man called her Matron Essien. And he introduced himself as Reckoner Garric.”

Nell nods at me, waiting expectantly for more.

“Reckoner Garric was telling Mo--Um, Matron Essien--that she was late on her payments, and she was going to be exiled. She… had another option, to… let the boy I was seeing through become a slave… but she refused. And then everything turned grey--no, orange… I don’t know. Everything was… blurry. I heard the boy scream out for his mother. And then I woke up.”

Explaining the dream makes me uncomfortable, as I rearrange it in my head.

“Enoch… I like that name. Enoch. It suits you.”

“That’s not my name. That was the boy’s name.”

**_‘You do not have a name.’_ **

“The boy’s eyes were what you were seeing through in the dream, right?”

“R-right.”

_ CRACK! _

**_‘Wrong!’_ **

“Are you sure that wasn’t a memory? A memory from a long time ago. I mean, you said the woman, Matron Essien, felt familiar to you. So if she was your mother…”

**_‘You do not have a mother.’_ **

“She couldn’t have been.”

“How can you be sure?”

**_‘You do not have a past!’_ **

“If she was my mother, then I wouldn’t be a slave!”

…

…

I’m standing over Nell now, shaking. The dawn isn’t lovely anymore. I don’t know what I was about to do. Nell remains silent.

“I didn’t mean to get… I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I shouldn’t have gone foraging through your dreams. I can’t be sure either, and regardless, I know it must be hard for you. To think about your past.”

“I told you, I don’t remember anything before being a slave. The number on my chest is my name.”

**_‘You are a slave. You are number 457. You will answer only to those callings.’_ **

“That’s where I’m afraid I have to tell you you’re wrong.”

Nell stands up to face me. She might only be half a head taller than me, but her eyes are piercing enough to make it seem as if she is towering over me. Yet her voice isn’t booming, or intimidating. It’s soft and calm, but even so, her words resonate firmly in my head.

“Sooner or later, you’re going to have to face the fact that you are not a slave anymore. You are a free man now. And free men have names. Not numbers. That brand on your chest just means you’ve been oppressed. And that oppression is over. You don’t have to submit to that anymore.”

“If not number 457, then I don’t know who I am.”

“You make who you are. Your name doesn’t have to have been given to you by someone else. It can be your choice.”

“I don’t know what I want my name to be.”

“And I understand that. Choosing your name would be a big decision.”

“Why did you choose Nell?”

At that, Nell sighs. “I didn’t choose Nell. My parents gave it to me when I was born. Or… well, my mother did, at least.”

“So your name wasn’t your choice.”

“I never said your name  _ had _ to be your choice, I said it  _ can _ be.”

“Then why do I have to choose one now?”

“Because you don’t have one… yet.”

“So, what? I just pick a name and that’s it?” The whole idea seems ridiculous to me.

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

“You want your name to be ‘fine’?”

“No! That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, I was just kidding with you. Fah! I’m going to have to teach you how to laugh, too, aren’t I?”

**_‘You will not laugh. You will not cry. You will feel only the emotions I shall give you.’_ **

“Hey, E-umm, hey… you alright?”

“Huh? What?”

“You seem distracted.”

“Sorry. I was just… thinking.”

“… okay. Well… I’ll give you some time to think about it. Personally, I think Enoch is a good name.”

“Why is Enoch a good name?”

“That’s just my opinion. It sounds good. ‘Enoch’. It grabs your attention when you say it. I mean, just sound it out. ‘Enoch’. It’s strong, but not too… excessive. It’s still a normal name, but… unique. Definitely not a name I’ve ever heard before.”

“Enoch…”

Nell clamps her hand on my shoulder, leaning in so her eyes are level with mine.

“Look, I’m going to head out and forage for food. Meat rots faster here in the marshes, so that rabbit I got with you yesterday isn’t any good anymore. But at least it still served as a lesson for hunting to you, I hope, so it wasn’t wasted.” Nell seems to be only half-confident in that statement.

“You’re probably still weak from your bleeding last night, so I want you to just stay here and, uh... think about everything. Clear your head. Let your mind wander. It’s important to distract yourself from what’s immediate every once in awhile. Okay?”

“I don’t…” I don’t like the idea of idling around while I could be doing something productive, but it’s not like I would be very helpful to her following her around while she hunts. “Okay.”

“I’ll return before the sun peaks.” Nell steps backwards and turns to wander somewhere into the marsh. “And I promise I’ll bring back something good!” She shouts back at me, before finally disappearing into the damp woodlands, leaving me alone.

Alone with my thoughts.

So I’m just supposed to sit here and think? ‘Let my mind wander’ as she says? My mind wanders straight to what I should be doing right now. I don’t want to think about what my name should be. I don’t need one. If she wants to call me Enoch, that’s fine. But that’s her choice. It makes no difference to me.

At least, I tell myself that. My mind keeps wandering back to my dream, seeing through the eyes of the boy Enoch. Matron Essien seemed so familiar. I remember Reckoner Garric’s voice. And I don’t… trust it.

Maybe Nell is right. Maybe I am remembering things from my past. Everything is so hazy. I don’t have any memories of being a kid… though I thought that was normal. A lot of things aren’t normal anymore. Perhaps I am Enoch, but… that’s not important. I can’t just idle around here forever.

If Nell is off hunting, and she expects me to wait here, then I should do something here. Prepare something for her to come back to. Like a shelter. Or a fire. So she can cook the meat. If she brings back meat. She might bring back fruit. Like apples. My stomach gurgles as I wonder what Nell will bring back to eat. She mentioned something about ‘cattails’ before, too.

Will we stay here another night as well? Or will we be traveling somewhere else? If we stay, it’ll be cold once the sun falls again. A fire would probably be best, just in case.

I don’t know how to start a fire, but I could at least gather the wood ahead of time. Then again, isn’t all of the wood around here too damp to be useful for a fire?

Maybe. But the cave is dry. So I can start drying the wood once I gather it. I’ll do that. At least then I’ll be somewhat useful. Hopefully.

I set to work gathering wood outside our cave, never traveling too far, lest I get lost, or find myself drowning in mud again. Most of the wood is nothing but twigs and soggy bits of bark. There are a few large branches scattered about, however.

_ Enoch… _

The more I think about the name, the more I feel like I should be able to recognize it. It calls my attention to it when I hear myself saying it in my head. Like I just… have to listen to it when it is said.

Every loose bit of dirt and mud caked on the soaking branches stick to my arms, leaving me covered in muck and grime almost immediately. Trying to rub it off only smears it into my skin further. At first it’s uncomfortable, but I soon grow used to the feeling.

It doesn’t take long for me to gather every decently-sized fallen branch in the vicinity and drag them all inside our cave. For a brief moment, I feel satisfied. Now the wood can start drying and when Nell gets back, we can start the fire sooner.

But Nell isn’t back yet. I check outside and look to the sky. From what I can make out through the tree canopy, it’s got a short while before it peaks.

I’m not used to waiting. The only time I usually wait… or waited, was when I woke up in my cell early and anticipated my door swinging open and the guards expecting me to already be standing at the ready.

Looking back, that feeling was absolutely dreadful. I would stand with perfect posture until my feet were sore and my back was stiff. Then I would have to let myself relax, lest I be worn out before I even began my day of work, and during that whole time I was filled with fear, that if the door swung open during those moments of reprieve, then I wouldn’t have any food or water to come back to that night. I always had to be ready. Always on edge. Always terrified.

But that made me strong. It made me better. I felt… proud… when I was prepared for the day. Proud when I worked harder than all the other slaves, proud when I performed the best… Proud when another slave’s spot was empty at roll call, because I knew I’d survived another day that not everybody else was able to, that I’d endured what another could not. It made me proud… The terror paved the path to my pride. And I liked it.

Nell doesn’t terrify me. She doesn’t expect much from me. She knows I’m almost useless in this new world I’ve been introduced to. But she doesn’t punish me for it. Instead she’s unreasonably kind to me. And that makes me feel weak… Yet I like Nell.

I need to return the favor somehow. I need to feel that sense of pride again, but I don’t have to be afraid of Nell. I hope that with time, I’ll be able to adjust and become just as useful in this different environment. I hope I don’t get weak without the fear to help keep me strong. I can’t let that happen.

I wish I could be out there helping Nell hunt, rather than waiting back here at home. This new kind of waiting isn’t as fearful, but it’s still uncomfortable. I can’t help but fidget and pace back and forth around the cave, anticipating her return.

If I were to ever hunt with Nell, I’d have to learn to be quieter and more ‘in tune with nature’ as she would probably say. But… I have hunted before. The rassic that attacked me. I was it’s prey, and then I changed my role.

I didn’t eat the rassic though. Maybe they don’t count for hunting, or their meat is bad. But if I can make another beast try to attack me, one that I can take on, then I would have a chance, to hunt, to kill, to earn my own sustenance.

There are probably many beasts stronger than rassics, though. The timber troll I faced is evidence enough of that, and if not for Nell taking the monster down with her bow and arrow, I’d likely be dead right now. I was prey back then. I still am.

I need a weapon. I don’t know how to make a bow or arrows, what she uses as the bowstring, or how she shaped the wood to curve the way it does, how it bends without breaking. Maybe someday, but not today.

Start simple. I have wood. Plenty of sticks. Maybe I could craft a spear. That should be easy. I just need to find a decent-sized straight piece of wood and sharpen the ends, right? I pick a branch from the pile, and begin my task.


	8. Keeping Busy

“I see you’ve been keeping busy while I was gone.”

Not much time could have passed. I’ve only just begun, and the end of my ‘spear’ isn’t even capable of piercing my skin yet. I don’t say anything. I had hoped I’d have something substantial to show Nell by the time she got back, but what I have instead is a knotty, sad-looking branch with one end’s bark rubbed off, and a pile of soggy, moss-covered wood behind me.

“What have you been doing anyway?”

“Collecting wood. To dry.”

“And that one in your hands there?”

“Making a spear.”

“I see… Could I take a look at it?” Nell holds out her hand expectantly. 

“It’s not done.” I mumble, as I hand her the branch.

Without moving her arm, she makes a fist. The wood bends in her grip without much resistance, until it eventually seems to just crumble away into two separate sticks.

“The wood around here isn’t fit for crafting anything sturdy. What you’d want is either ash, elm, yew, hickory, or black locust wood. None of which grows in good quality here. Most of what you’ve got in that pile there is shrubbery wood. Pretty much useless for anything other than weaving basic baskets or rope, and even then, it doesn’t last.”

“Oh.” is all I can think to say, as I silently berate myself for my ignorance.

“Don’t be upset. I don’t expect you to know all of these things. I’m glad you took the initiative, regardless.

“Why?”

“It says a lot about your character. You had no idea what you were doing, yet you tried anyway.”

“But it wouldn’t have worked. I already failed before I even started.”

“Most people fail several times before they learn how to do things the right way. Even when they know what they’re doing, they make mistakes. Failures and mistakes are to be expected. It’s the only way you can teach yourself new things when you don’t have help.”

“But--”

“Hush, now. It’s not a big deal. Why were you trying to craft a spear anyways?”

“So I could hunt. With you.”

A wide smirk creeps onto her face, and she giggles to herself quietly. Her expression leads me to feel ashamed, but my heart also flutters at the sound of her laughter.

“Hey, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I wasn’t trying to laugh at you.”

Despite my shame, I can’t help but smile for some reason, and I can’t manage to keep eye contact with Nell any longer than a brief moment.

“Are you… blushing? Fah, you really are a shrinking violet!”

The invisible force making me smile fades, and I stare at the gravel beneath me in silence.

_ What is wrong with me? _

“Look at me.”

**_‘Look me in the eyes when I speak to you!’_ **

_ CRACK! _

Nell clasps her hand on my shoulder, and I immediately snap to attention. Her eyes… every time her eyes lock with mine, it’s as if my entire body is bound in place at her mercy. But it’s not a terrifying sensation, not what I’m used to. It’s… reassuring. They just have such… intensity.

“We’ll make you a weapon. And we will hunt together. Just not now. This isn’t the time or place for that. Besides, I already got us food for today. Should be enough to get us to the wet meadows.”

She drops a massive bundle of plant stems with dark brown bulbs at the top of them. I remember seeing several before when we were traversing through the swamps, usually growing near muddy areas of shallow water.

“What are these?”

“Cattails. Incredibly useful. The brown heads can be broken open and used as tinder for a fire. They can be used for all kinds of things.”

“What about food?”

“They are food. And we can eat as we travel, because they’re light, and don’t need to be cooked. At least not the stems, anyway.”

I sift through the pile of cat tails. The stalks are long and green, and there are a lot of them. If they stave off hunger well, then they should be more than enough.

“Where are we going?”

“The wet meadows. It’s east of here, shouldn’t be too far.”

“What’s at the wet meadows?”

“Olemiss. It’s a small town built near the end of Leanan’s Vein.”

“And what’s that?”

“Leanan’s Vein? So it’ll be your first time seeing it!?” Nell exclaims in excitement.

“What is it?” I ask again, growing impatient. I wish I wasn’t so uninformed on everything Nell talks about.

“You’ll witness it for yourself soon enough. It’s amazing, trust me.”

My stomach growls, and I don’t bother getting irritated at her vague answer. I look back down at the pile of cattails. If Nell says they’re safe to eat, then I guess there’s no reason not to.

Picking up one from the pile, I take a bite out of the dark brown bulb at the top. Despite being wet, it’s still crunchy and difficult to chew. It tastes like what I imagine tree bark tastes like - not pleasant. I force it down, right before I’m informed that I shouldn’t have.

“Wait, no! You don’t eat that part of it!”

Too late now. “Am I going to die?”

“Fah! It’s not that serious! It’s just… well… hard to digest when you eat that part raw. So the next time you… you know… it might hurt when it… comes out.”

“Oh.” Good to know that now.

“Since I doubt we’d be able to thoroughly roast anything here in the marshes, we’ll save the flower heads for later. The stalks are perfectly fine to eat raw, however. Tastes better too. Just peel away the outer green part and eat the white stem inside.”

“I’ll eat again later.” The bad part I took a bite of is already making my stomach feel tight. But I’m not hungry anymore, so I suppose it served its purpose. Or perhaps I just lost my appetite.

“So you want to head out now?”

“I follow you. Whether we leave now or later doesn’t matter.”

“Alright, well, if you feel fit for travel, then there’s no reason to stick around here any longer. If we leave now, we should at least reach the wet meadows by the next morning, if not Olemiss itself.”

“Okay.”

I don’t know what awaits me in the wet meadows or Olemiss, but I’m eager to find out. Nell bundles up her pile of cattails and tucks them inside a belt of fur at her hips. I look behind me at the pile of ‘firewood’ I collected and the two pieces of my ‘spear’, before I look away, discontinuing my acknowledgement of their existence and the time I wasted.

“C’mon. Let’s go while the sun’s still high.” Nell beckons me to follow her with a nod of the head.

With the sun at our backs, we head out across the marshes, towards the wet meadows, and Olemiss.

~

“Fah! The day is fading quicker than I’d thought it would.”

“Can we keep going through the night?”

“Night travel can be dangerous. And we won’t have the sun to keep us guided in the right direction. And it’s going to get cold soon.”

“So should we stop?”

“We should… but we won’t. We’re out of the deep marshes, so there won’t be any more mudpits to detour us.”

“How can you tell? It all looks the same to me.”

“I just can. I’ve spent a lot of time exploring the wilds. To most, it does all look exactly the same. But there are minor differences that can be found everywhere, albeit hidden from inexperienced eyes.”

“I see.”

“Or rather, you don’t see,” Nell playfully winks at me, “but I get what you mean to say.”

“Yeah.”

I smile back at her in an attempt to show I’m starting to pick up on her sense of humor. It doesn’t make me laugh, but it’s still charming in some strange sense.

Our eyes lock together, as they seem to do so frequently now. Nell takes a step towards me, and I can’t decide whether I should take a step back, remain still, or move even closer to her. Her hand briefly brushes against mine, and I’m tempted to close the gap between us. But I hesitate.

Then my stomach decides for me, as my intestines begin to squirm. The meager meal I ate at the beginning of the day isn’t going to keep settled for much longer.

“I have to go.” I blurt out quickly before I make my retreat behind a mess of bushes.

“Wait, where are you -- oh… alright.”

Feeling like I want to just keel over and die, I seethe in embarrassment as my gut handles its business.

~

“You okay?”

Nell begins asking questions before I even emerge from my cover.

“I’m fine.” I answer, although I do not feel fine.

When I return, Nell isn’t convinced.

“You sure? Your face is bright red, and you’re practically soaked in sweat.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Maybe we should stop for today. You need to refill your stomach and get some rest.”

“I’m not tired. We can keep moving.”

“Fine. But you need to eat. This time, eat the stalks only. The insides of them. Peel off the green. There’s another white part of the stalk. That’s the part you eat.”

“Okay.”

Indeed, the stalks go down much more easily than the flower heads. And peeling the green edge of the stalk is rather easy, it practically tears off like a loose sleeve. The taste is bitter, but not unpleasant. I only eat one, yet the taste lingers long after I finish it. I suspect Nell would want me to eat more, but I don’t want to risk taking more than my fair share. She was the one who gathered them, after all.

The land grows dimmer as the sky turns a dark shade of orange. The sun isn’t visible through all of the trees behind us, but it should still be above the horizon for a while longer.

At least the ground isn’t soggy any more. It’s soft and supple, still moist, but not sticky or uncomfortable to walk on.

The passage of time seems to slow, and I begin to regret my original intention to continue our hike eastward through the night. We’re out of the deep marshes, and the chorus of chittering insects I heard last night isn’t present. It’s silent and dreary in the dark, the only noise I hear are the sounds of our footsteps upon the grass and the whistles of a slight breeze.

“The air moves with more freedom here.” Nell notes.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Good. It means we’re practically already in the wet meadows. Less trees. There’ll hardly be any trees once we reach Olemiss, but that’s on the far end of the meadows.”

“Like how the barrens are?” The barrens, where I spent most of my life, have no trees. Only their remains, chipped bark and ashes of burnt wood strewn across the landscape of dead grass, rocks and gravel.

“No. Much more beautiful. You’ll never want to return to the barrens once you see the wet meadows.”

“Why are we going to Olemiss, though?”

“Supplies, mainly. We don’t have to craft everything ourselves, you know. And I’m betting you’d love to have some more comfortable clothes than those old rags. I’m surprised they haven’t fallen apart yet.”

“My clothes are fine.”

“At the very least, you need something that can keep you warm when the heat of the sun isn’t present.”

“I have y--um…” I stop myself before I finish my response. For some reason, I just feel I’m not supposed to say that.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“I didn’t hear nothing. You were definitely saying something. What?”

“I don’t know what I was saying.”

“Fah!” Nell turns back around and continues east.

I follow her, despite knowing I’ve made her angry. I don’t want to seem weak to her, but she’s all I have now. That’s what I couldn’t finish saying.

I have her.


	9. Fresh Faces

The night is darker than I’d thought it would be. I can barely see Nell ahead of me, even though she’s only a few paces in front of me. Everything beyond that might as well be a cliff that leads to the void, if not for the occasional sounds of an animal sprinting through a spot of foliage.

“Nell.”

“What?”

“Those noises. There are beasts around.”

“Beasts? No, there’s nothing dangerous around here. What you’re hearing are probably rabbits or squirrels. The largest animals you’ll find in this region are bears, and they’re only dangerous if you piss them off. So I don’t consider them beasts.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, I--hey, you see that? Light. Looks like a fire.”

“I see it.” Indeed, clear as day, there is a fire out in the middle of a wide clearing with no trees.

“Looks like a campfire. I see a drying rack built over it, and a small reusable tent on the far side.”

“Other people?”

“They’re smoking a bunch of food. Several animals, looks like fish and rabbit meat, mostly. But with a tent that size, I’d guess there’s only one person, maybe two. Probably a hunter.”

“What should we do?”

“Well… I’m going to teach you how to say ‘hi’.”

“Hi. I already know how to say hi.”

“Then there’s no need to practice. Let’s go say hi to them.”

“W-wait! What?”

Nell ignores me, already walking straight toward the strangers’ camp. I feel rooted in place, but I tear my feet from the ground in order to follow after her.

It doesn’t take long for us to be noticed. “Stop! Who are you?” It sounds like a woman. The voice is light and young; not necessarily intimidating, but she projects herself well enough. I see her silhouette step out in front of the campfire, seemingly tiny in the distance. She appears to be unarmed.

Nell calls back to her. “Two roamers traveling to Olemiss! We approach your hearth with gentle intentions!”

“Roamers still on the move after the moon’s peaked? Gimme your names!”

“I am Nell, and my companion… is… he’s a runner. I found him a few days ago in the fringe, and he has yet to choose a name.”

“...well come on, then! Approach!”

I stop Nell before she continues forward, whispering at her side.

“What’s a runner?”

“An escapee. A slave that ran away. That’s what you are.”

“But I didn’t run away.”

“I was keeping things simple. You’re a former slave, most of which around these parts are called runners.”

“Fine.”

The tiny girl calls out to us again. “Hurry up ‘fore I change my mind!”

We walk side by side up to the girl at the campfire. The girl makes a fist and presses it against her heart, nodding to Nell and announcing her name. “Ibra.”

Nell returns the gesture. “Nell.”

I copy the same movements, but remain silent.

Ibra looks me over with a solemn gaze. I do the same. She has reddish hair that reaches her chin on the sides, but the back is cut higher up. Thin black lines seem to be painted under her eyes and along her cheekbones, starkly contrasting her pale white skin.

The most significant thing I notice about her is her stature, nearly a whole head shorter than me. With Nell being slightly taller than me, I’d figured I was pretty short, but not anymore. It feels weird looking down to see Ibra’s visage.

Like Nell, she is dressed in animal furs, though it’s more decorative. I see small studs of iron banding her chestpiece together, which would otherwise be split down the middle. Her shoes are sandals, and instead of pants, she has a short skirt, leaving her legs bare from her ankles to just above her knees. I also see bird feathers lining her clothing, laced around the cuffs, neckline, and bottom of her skirt. Her chest is flat, and she looks young, even younger than me. She must still be just a girl.

She breaks a slight grin at me, but her eyes appear sad. The grin is fake. I recognize the expression as the same one Nell has given me in the past. Pity.

“I’m not a runner. I didn’t run. I was disposed of.”

I hoped clearing that up would change the look on her face, instead it only grows worse. I force myself to look away. Pity makes me angry.

Ibra clears her throat. “Well… you guys wanna come and sit by the fire? Probly more comfortable’n standin’ here in the dark.”

“Yes, of course. That’d be lovely.” Nell answers, presumably for the both of us.

We circle around the campfire lined with stones. Ibra sits first, crossing her legs. Nell relaxes at the opposite end. I don’t leave her side.

Ibra continues her offerings. “You hungry? I’m happy to share.”

I let Nell do the talking. “That’s not necessary. We still have enough cattails to get us to Olemiss.”

The smoked meat on the rack above the fire looks much more appetizing than cat tails, but I don’t say anything.

“Cattails? Blegh! We’re gonna eat real food tonight. I have a few rabbits, a squirrel, and loads of fish. S’not like I’ll be able to eat it all.”

Ibra hands Nell a small stick with a sharpened tip, and Nell immediately skewers one of the hunks of meat on the rack.

“Thank you.”

It takes me a moment before I realize Ibra is holding another sharpened stick out to me, making me flinch.

“Sorry. I mean, thank you.”

Looking at the rack of meat above the fire, I can’t make out most of the animals. I only recognize the rabbit carcasses.

Ibra senses my hesitance, pitching in, “I’d take the squirrel if I was you. You ever had squirrel before?”

“No.”

“Then you should have it, since there’s only one. Looks ‘bout done too.”

“Thank you.”

After being taught which piece of meat was the squirrel, I had what was the best meal I’ve ever had. Better than the rabbit, even. The food was incredibly tender, juicy, and bittersweet. Nell and Ibra had rabbits, and the rack with fish on it was moved away from the fire, to be dried and preserved.

Part of me was curious of what fish tasted like as well, but Ibra stated that it wasn’t as good as rabbit. It’s just easier to catch, so she trades the extra ones she doesn’t eat back in Olemiss.

Unfortunately, squirrels are small, and I finished it quickly, even sooner than Nell and Ibra ate their rabbits. It felt awkward sitting there waiting for them to finish eating, but I distracted myself staring into the fire, listening to it crackle.

**_‘457!’_ **

“W-what!?”

It’s Ibra. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle ya. I asked what that number on your chest was. 457. Whassit for?”

“It’s--”

“No, don’t answer that.” Nell cuts me off.

“There a problem?” Ibra inquires.

Nell shoots Ibra an irritated look, before turning back to me. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. You should get some rest.”

I have to admit I do feel weary, so I don’t protest her suggestion.

“Ibra, you don’t have any problems with letting him sleep in your tent, do you?” Her question sounds more like a command.

“Eh. I ain’t too tired anyway, so go ahead.”

Some part of me feels like I’m doing something wrong by resting in Ibra’s tent, but I’m too tired to resist.

“Thank you.”

It isn’t until I crawl into Ibra’s tent some distance away from the fire and crawl into a bedding of furs that I realize how much my eyes are burning and my head hurts, almost as if it is pulsing.

I’m glad to finally be out of sight. This is what it means to rest for me. To be in my cell, out of sight, free from scrutiny. I can let my body go limp, not having to worry about perfect posture. I don’t want to go to sleep. I just want to lay here forever. I hope tomorrow never comes.

The sounds outside are muffled, but the voices of Nell and Ibra come through clearly.

“Sorry. I mean, I never met a ‘scaped slave before, I didn’t know.”

“Just don’t bring up his number again. That was the only form of a name he’s known for most of his life.”

“Then what in Hvass’ name am I s’posed to call him?”

“Nothing. He is who he is, and until he chooses a name for himself, or remembers his old one, you just have to get around that.”

“He forgot his name?”

“Perhaps he was born into slavery, but I don’t think so. I think he lost his parents somehow, and at a young age, he was… retaught.”

“What makes you think that?”

“He has… dreams. But the way he talks about them, they sound more like memories. He just doesn’t think they are. He needs time to adjust. I can tell that this is a lot for him.”

“Hvass…”

Nell’s voice grows faint as I close my eyes and tune out the world in order to rest in comfortable bedding for my second time.

“I feel I know his name already, but he’s not sure, so I don’t address him yet. But honestly, in my head, I already think of him as…”

_ ‘Enoch, son of Matron Essien… no father?’ _

_ ‘Mother never liked to talk about him.’ _

_ ‘Hm… even so, his name should still be on here. Do you know what his name was?’ _

_ ‘Y-yes. Nasem.’ _

_ ‘And his title?’ _

_ ‘Greaver.’ _

_ ‘Greaver Nasem… Hm… interesting.’ _

_ The woman shows a hint of disgust on her face as she scribbles a lot of words on her clipboard. She’s been calling out the name of every other kid in the room, for ‘roll call’. There are only 10 of us. She didn’t spend as much time writing after each of the other kids said their names. _

_ She’s wearing a ridiculously long dress, that sprawls out on the floor behind her. People must step on it all the time. I watch as it drags away slowly as she moves on to the next kid in the line until she finishes with everyone. _

_ ‘All of you shall call me Invigilator Seraphim.’ _

_ ‘In-vi-gi-la-tor Se-ra-phim.’ _

_ It’s a bit difficult to sound out, but I manage, along with all of the other kids. _

_ ‘Good. Now, each of you will be assigned a number, and you shall answer to that number and that number only. Your names will not do here.’ _

_ ‘Why n--?’ _

_ SMACK! _

_ My head hurts. The tall lady smacked me across the face. _

_ ‘Ow! What was that for?’ _

_ ‘You will address me only as Invigilator Seraphim.’ _

_ ‘Sorry, In… Invigilator S-seraphim.’ _

_ Invigilator Seraphim is mean. She bends down and gets in my face. _

_ ‘And you will not speak unless spoken to. Do you understand?’ _

_ ‘Y-yes.’ _

_ ‘Good. Now, class, you will not be staying here. You will be going to the compound for further instruction. You shall line up behind the man at the door, Keeper Senka, as I call your name, and give you your new number. Remember your number, for I will not be addressing you by your names after this point. During your time at the compound, you shall always line up single file in this order. First is Drayton, son of Roamer Devlin and Matron Karia: 4-5-1.’ _

_ The kid, Drayton, starts asking a question. _

_ ‘Why are we starting at four hun--’ _

_ SMACK! _

_ ‘4-5-1, tell me, why did I do that?’ _

_ 4-5-1 doesn’t say anything. _

_ ‘Answer!’ _

_ ‘B-because I spoke without… being spoken to, Invigilator Seraphim.’ _

_ ‘Good boy. Now, I will answer your question only because it will be important information for you to understand during your time at the compound. You are a group, a group of 10. There are many other groups. You are the 45th group. Therefore, your numbers will be from 4-5-1 up to 4-6-0. Do you understand?’ _

_ ‘Yes.’ _

_ ‘Do not speak out of turn again, 4-5-1.’ _

_ 4-5-1 looks at his feet. _

_ She walks to the next boy in line, then the next, until she reaches me. I’m 7th in line. _

_ ‘Next is Enoch, son of… Greaver Nasem and Matron Essien: 4-5-7.’ _

_ I don’t say anything back to her. She walks past me to assign the rest of the kids their names. I never see her eyes lift up from her clipboard. I move to my spot in line behind 4-5-6. The last few kids line up behind me. _

_ ‘Now, follow Keeper Senka. He will take you to the compound to receive further instruction. Keeper Senka, they are in your hands.’ _

_ ‘Alright. Keep in pace with me, whelps. Do not lag behind.’ _

_ I don’t even realize the line began moving until the kid behind me shoves me aside, causing me to stumble right onto Invigilator Seraphim’s dress train. _

_ CRACK! _

_ I cry out in pain as my back is set on fire. I blurrily see the Invigilator with a whip extending out of her sleeve. Watching through the water welling up in my eyes, she lashes the other boy who had been standing behind me. _

_ CRACK! _

_ She lashes him a second time. _

_ CRACK! _

_ Then a third. _

_ CRACK! _

_ And then I lose count. I can’t even hear the whip cracking anymore. It sounds like an explosion is going off each and every time she hits him. _

_ My ears are ringing, and I can’t hear him screaming, but I know he is. His eyes are shut and he looks like he’s gasping for air. The tunic he’s wearing has torn open across his back, and I can see blood. _

_ The room is now empty, save for me, Invigilator Seraphim, and the other boy. _

_ The Invigilator’s mouth moves, and I force myself to hear her words through the ringing. I have to. I don’t want that to happen to me. _

_ ‘4-5-8 pushed you. Why?’ _

_ ‘I-I… I don’t…’ _

_ No. I shouldn’t lie. I know why. _

_ ‘I mean… I wasn’t moving when the rest of the line was.’ _

_ ‘Good. Now look at 4-5-8.’ _

_ He’s shaking, violently. His breaths are short and raspy. He’s face-down on the floor. His eyes meet mine. Hatred pours out of them. I understand why. _

_ This is my fault. _

_ CRACK! _

_ The lash connects with 4-5-8’s neck, but he doesn’t react. He just goes stiff, his eyes never leaving me. They don’t close. The look of hate, however, drains to nothing. It’s just a blank stare now. _

_ ‘4-5-7, tell me, do you think he deserved that?’ _

_ ‘N-no.’ _

_ ‘Why do you think that?’ _

_ ‘It was my fault! I didn’t know the line was moving already, so I was s-standing still. If I had moved… h-he wouldn’t have pushed me.’ _

_ ‘True, you set the chain of events in motion. But your folly was one of ignorance, whereas his was a violent reaction. Ignorance will be punished, as it can be fixed. Violence, however, is intolerable, and will be eliminated immediately. I’m sure you already understood that, correct?’ _

_ ‘Yes, Invigilator Seraphim.’ _

_ ‘Therefore, unfortunately, 4-5-8 had to be dealt with. Being that this is a Neofen group, it’ll will likely cause a lot of paperwork, as the 45th group will be arriving with only 8 new slaves.’ _

_ ‘Slaves?’ _

_ ‘A-hah, yes, of course. You’re not going to school. The rest of the 45th Neofens don’t know that yet, however. You’ll be joining them again soon enough, but, ah… we have some things we need to deal with first.’ _

_ I can’t speak. I don’t know what to say. Tears well up in my eyes, and my vision blurs. _

_ ‘Now, get up.’ _

“Fah! Wake up already!”

Invigilator Seraphim is no longer standing over me, and I’m not a small child anymore. Instead, Nell is kneeling over me, nudging my shoulder.

“What’s takin’ you guys so long!?” I recognize Ibra’s voice shouting from outside the tent.

“HE’S HAVING TROUBLE FINDING HIS FEET!” Nell shouts back, though the sound reverberates inside the tent.

“His what!?”

“NEVERMIND!” Nell returns her attention to me. “Come on. The sun’s been up for a while now. Time to finish our journey to Olemiss.”

“Oh… okay.”

Sluggishly, I bring myself to my feet. Halfway up, I freeze, locking all of my muscles. My back aches… in the same place I felt the searing pain in my dream. Where Invigilator Seraphim whipped Enoch. Me.

I am Enoch. I have to be! I know Invigilator Seraphim. I remember the first 4-5-8. I recognize his eyes. It can’t have been a dream. It’s too clear for me to doubt it anymore.

“Are you okay?” Nell asks.

Now isn’t the time to tell her about my dreams… my memories. It’s time to go.

“I’m fine. I just… need time to adjust… like you said, right?”

“You heard that last night, huh?”

“Some of it.”

Nell scratches her arm and looks to the floor. I’ve never seen her act nervous before.

“Hey! What’s takin’ so long? You two’d better not be makin’ the beast with two backs in my tent!”

“Ugh!” Nell storms outside, muttering to herself and then shouting at Ibra.

I stay in the tent for a few more moments trying to figure out what a beast with two backs is, and how we could make one. It sounds strange, and dangerous.

Emerging the tent, I see the wet meadows as they truly are in the daylight for the first time. The grass is short, but lush, vibrant, and almost bright green. It feels soft beneath my feet, not spiky, like the grass I’m used to. There are several trees in one direction, but in the other, I see hardly any. Just grass on rolling hills.

The sky is draped in light clouds, making the world look… softer. Less intense. The sun shines brightly, but with the clouds floating over it, my eyes don’t feel pain when I look at it. The air feels clear and cool. It’s surprisingly much warmer than the marshes were, but the heat is balanced by the wind.

Nell was right. I like the wet meadows.

“So, you like the wet meadows, huh?” Nell reads my thoughts as she strides up next to me. “I’ve never seen you smile so much before.”

Or she just read the expression on my face. I hadn’t even realized I was smiling. I just feel… good. This place makes me feel good. I want to be able to get used to this. I can see far beyond, like in the barrens, yet here the landscape is much more beautiful.

“Yeah…” I say, unable to think of anything else. “Yeah.”

_ I am Enoch. I want to live here. I want to start a new life here as Enoch. _

“Is something on your mind?”

_ Nell looks beautiful. Just like this place. _

“A lot of things.”

“I can already tell that much. What are you thinking about specifically, though?

_ Her eyes... _

“Um…”

“Um?”

_ She’s majestic. _

“N-nothing.”

“Something is troubling you. Talk to me. You don’t have to silence yourself all the time.”

_ I have to be silent now. _

She shifts herself even closer beside me, resting her hand on my shoulder, forcing my eyes to meet hers.

“Please?”

She wields her eyes like a prybar to my mind, leaving me feeling as if I’m going to explode with all of the words I wish I knew how to say to her.

_ I can’t. _

“I… I think you were right. About my name. I want it to be Enoch.”

In spite of my familiarity with her face, it’s hard to read the flurry of expressions that run across her face. Surprise, and… disappointment? Then it is quickly and forcibly replaced by excitement. Like she was expecting me to say something else.

“O-oh! That’s great! What changed your mind?”

“Another… dream. Or a memory.”

“From your childhood?”

“I think so.”

“What happened? Do you want to--”

“Alrighty, you two, I’m all packed up. I can guide you straight to Olemiss, if ya still want. Save ya from havin’ ta find Leanan’s Vein first and followin’ that the rest o’ the way there.”

Ibra interrupts us, with a pouch filled with all of the fish that weren’t eaten last night hanging by her hip, and a large knapsack on her back, with rough bits of what appears to be her tent sticking out of the top.

Nell answers Ibra while referring to me, “Well, I promised him that we’d go and see Leanan’s Vein first before we reached Olemiss.”

I interject, not wanting Nell to feel guilty, despite genuinely being curious about Leanan’s Vein. “It’s fine. That can wait for some other time. What’s so special about it, anyways?”

“You’d understand as soon as you saw it. It’s beautiful.”

“Still… it’s not necessary. We can just go straight to Olemiss.”

“Yeah, but life doesn’t always have to be about doing only what’s necessary. You have to remember to live a little too. I said I’d show you Leanan’s Vein, so that’s what I want to do. Regardless, I still leave it up to you.”

“We’ll go to Leanan’s Vein first, then.”

Ibra steps in to speak again, as I realize she’d been standing there waiting while Nell and I were deciding. “Alright, well, I’m headin’ straight to Olemiss, so...”

“Perhaps we’ll meet you there. Either way, we thank you for your hospitality.”

“Happy to help. S’always interestin’ to meet another roamer like me… and the company they keep.” Ibra finishes her statement with a wink at Nell. I don’t understand it, making me feel awkwardly left out.

Nell responds with an annoyed and exhausted tone, “Farewell, Ibra.”

“See ya in Olemiss!”

Ibra nods at Nell, then to me, and turns to head northeast to Olemiss without another word. We watch as Ibra steadily becomes more and more distant.

Nell and I are left alone with each other once again. I like it this way.


	10. Leanan's Vein

Travelling in the wet meadows is much more pleasant than traveling in the forest and in the marsh. It’s much more relaxed, more… peaceful. Nell doesn’t keep her bow out with an arrow at the ready, and she doesn’t walk with a slight crouch or worry about distributing her balance across each of her feet anymore.

When I follow behind her like I normally do, she falls back and keeps in pace with me by my side. I’m not used to it, but… I like being closer to her, at least.

“So, Enoch… how’re you holding up?”

“Fine.”

“…Do you want to talk about your last dream?”

“I don’t know.”

“I understand. The memories aren’t pleasant, are they?”

“No… but it’s not that. There’s just… a lot of gaps. Things I don’t understand.”

“Maybe they’ll come to you in the future.”

“Maybe.” I doubt it.

She doesn’t say anything after that, so we walk together in silence.

The main thing I can’t connect is how I got from Matron Essien’s house to where I was with Invigilator Seraphim. That’s what I keep dwelling on. Matron Essien is supposedly my mother. I know I’m familiar with the name, and I feel as if I was close to her… but I can’t remember her face. All that comes to mind is a blur. Yet Invigilator Seraphim’s face was clear. I can easily picture it in my mind. Why can’t I remember who was supposedly my mother’s face, yet this Invigilator Seraphim comes to mind so clearly?

I remember the way she was smiling as she killed 458. The way she pursed her upper lip, how only the right side of her mouth curved up…

We were… 8 years old. All of the kids were, I think.

I don’t know how I remember that I was 8 years of age at the time of the dream with Invigilator Seraphim. Yet I don’t have a clue how old I am now. At least not with an exact year.

“What are you thinking about?”

Nell snaps me out of my thoughts. I realize I’ve still been absent-mindedly walking beside her.

“What?”

“You seem distracted, and… sad. I was wondering if there was something on your mind.”

“I’m just thinking about things. From before.”

“You mean your past?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re starting to recover, but try not to dwell on it too much. Don’t let yesterday use up too much of today and tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

We walk on.

~

The clouds begin to part, making the sun a constant annoyance. It’s still on the east end of the sky, which is the direction we’re headed, forcing it to be in our line of sight at all times. Nell has since taught me that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, helping me get a sense of both time and direction.

Nell would say the day is still young, then, as the sun hasn’t peaked yet. It would probably be nicer to travel east while the sun is setting, but it would be a waste of time to just wait all day for the sun to move to the other end of the sky.

“Do you hear it? We’re almost there.”

I don’t hear anything. “Hear what?”

“Leanan’s Vein. It’s close… come on!”

Nell breaks off into a sprint, diverting her route to run over a slight hill in the distance. I try to catch up to her, but the minor incline in the ground makes it difficult to keep balanced while running after her.

She leaves me behind with ease, and it isn’t long before she reaches the top of the hill and begins heading down the other side, descending beneath the horizon and out of my view.

**_‘Faster, whelp!’_ **

_ I can’t lose her. _

I trip on the hill trying to half-run, half-climb up it, sending pain through my ankle and up the rest of my leg. I guess it’s not fully healed yet. I clench my teeth and use the pain to launch myself back up and move faster.

I reach the peak and take a few steps down the other slope before I manage to slow my momentum, searching for Nell. Instead my eyes behold a massive path of moving water.

“There it is. Leanan’s Vein.” Nells voice rings out behind me.

She’s standing at the peak. Somehow I must have missed her. She has a sly grin on her face, as she places her hands on her hips and holds her chin high, staring up and away from me. The sun glares off of her cheek as she takes a deep, exaggerated breath.

_ She looks… heroic. Like a goddess. _

She turns her head and looks at me.

“You’re supposed to be staring at Leanan’s Vein in awe, not at me.”

I turn around again and look at the path of rushing water. Is it water? It looks… purple. Water isn’t supposed to be purple, I don’t think. Whatever it is, it’s breathtaking.

It stretches out further than I can see. To the south, it extends straight down all the way to the horizon, and then disappears. To the north, it winds and bends and weaves, hiding from my sight behind the rolling hills. There’s no telling how far it actually goes.

“Come on. It’s even better up close.”

Nell walks past me with a wide smirk on her face, and I wordlessly trail after her.

As we approach the waterway, I begin to feel water even in the air around me. Small droplets start to appear on my face out of seemingly nowhere. What began sounding as a gentle trickle of liquid quickly turns to the roaring noise of water rolling over ever more water, flowing through the land and blazing it’s own path through soil and stone.

Up close, the strange hue of the water is made even more apparent. It’s a bright shade of lavender, rather than clear or blue. Even the rocks around the waterpath are made of similar colors: red, pink, violet, and everything in between. What appears to be moss on the surface of the rocks along the edges of the water are also red.

It has me captivated. I want to feel the strange-hued water, to see if it feels any different. I approach the edge where the water meets with the land.

“Take care not to fall in, now. Her waters flow faster than it appears.”

I heed Nell’s advice, not intending to swim in the first place - as I don’t know how to. I don’t bother mentioning that, however.

Dipping my hand in the water, it feels… I don’t know. I can’t find the right word for it. Softer is the best thing I manage to think of. Yeah… that fits it well enough. It’s softer. Thicker. Warm, too.

“Well? What do you think?”

“It’s… strange. But I like it.”

“This river flows across all Leanan. Hence why it is called Leanan’s Vein.”

“Why is the water purple? Is it not water?”

“The Vein is only purple near Olemiss, actually. Olemiss is built along the edge of the Amaranth, where the Vein ends. The Amaranth is almost pink! It has many brightly colored fruits which grow along its shores.”

“So it’s safe to drink?”

“No, but not because it’s pink. It just has to be boiled first. Salt comes out of it when it’s boiled, and then it’s safe to drink. It’ll still be purple or pink or whatever color it was before you boiled it, though.”

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

Not knowing what to say next, we look at each other in silence for a moment, before she shifts her feet and starts drawing imaginary circles in the grass with her toes. I turn away from her and squat by the river bank. I find myself staring blankly at my distorted reflection in the water.

My face is scarred. From when I first contracted vein-rot and was left for dead, whipped by the taskmaster. The lash caught me right along the cheekbone. Any higher and I may have lost an eye. Instead it only knocked me unconscious, but when I awoke, my life as I knew it was over.

I touch the scar on my face. It doesn’t hurt. It isn’t crusted or scabbed over. It just feels like a thin line along my cheekbone, the rough texture almost undetectable.

_ I like it. _

Without that scar on my face, I’d have never met Nell. I’d still be 457. Right now I’d probably be cutting through brambles and chopping up trees, or breaking apart rocks with a pickaxe, or…

_ CRACK! _

457

The digits on my chest materialize in the ever-rippling water, screaming their way into my brain.

I cover the brand with my hand, hoping to muffle its cries.

_ Never again. _

Then my eyes start to burn. Tears are smoldering within, and I clench my eyes shut to prevent any from escaping. I fail, and one rips its way outside, searing its way down my cheek.

As it falls across the scar across my cheekbone, the scalding heat is smothered gently.

I open myself and struggle to see what’s in front of me, as my eyes have glazed over.

Nell has her hand on my cheek, and she brushes the teardrop aside with her thumb, tracing it along the permanent mark on my face, and strokes my hair back behind my ear.

The torrent of scalding tears I’d kept caged within start flooding out, spreading all across my face like wildfire.

Nell pulls me into her arms, and I bury my head in her shoulder, snuffing out the inferno I’d been in for so long. I succumb and let the stinging pain and burning irons finally fade away, if only for a brief moment, here with Nell.

I sob my thoughts and feelings out loud, muffled only by Nell’s embrace. For once, I let them go completely unsuppressed, and it’s too late for me to be able to stop myself. The storm within has to subside on its own accord before I can close the floodgates once more.

“Never again.” Is all I can manage to say through my choking tears and convulsive gasps for air.

“Never again, Enoch,” Nell coos in my ear, “Never again.”

~

If not for the sun moving from one end of the sky to the other, I’d have believed the passage of time was frozen. I don’t know how long I spent by the riverbed crying in Nells arms, creating a pool of my own tears around us, only to steadily drain into the waters of Leanan’s Vein and become one with the ever flowing stream.

When I gathered the strength to look up at Nell, her eyes tell me she’s been crying with me silently. She smiles at me, and I can’t help but smile back at her. My eyes are still glazed and my throat sticky, but I feel… content. Our faces both wet with tears, I can just tell… this is good.

Here, at this moment, the river, the landscape, the horizon, the yellow sky, Nell… everything is beautiful. She strokes my cheek, wiping away a stray tear I hadn’t felt. They don’t burn any more. I haven’t become numb to the burning, I just… learned that it’s not meant to hurt. The tears are good.

“Are you…?” Nell breathes, never finishing her question, though I don’t need her to.

“Yeah… better than… better than ever.” My throat still catches and gulps when I try to speak, though I answered honestly. I feel… I feel like… I just feel. And I like it.

“Enoch…” Nell’s voice, though still soft, takes a serious tone. “Do you l--um… do you want to--I mean, sh-should we…”

I assume Nell wants to get going to Olemiss, but she doesn’t know how to say it. The silence before she spoke was so strong, of course it’s hard to find any words. Though I’m in no hurry to leave where we are now, I answer simply to save her from having to stutter further.

“Sure. Let’s go.”

Nell perks up happily for a split second, and then shifts to confusion. “Oh... right…” Nell looks sad, almost… disappointed. Or just deep in thought.

I reluctantly begin to stand, and mentally prepare myself to finish our trek to Olemiss. But Nell, still sitting on the ground, grabs my hand before I get up.

“Wait… Olemiss can wait. Let’s just… stay here?”

She poses it as a question, but I know what answer she’s hoping for. I don’t want to disappoint her. Besides, she’s right. Olemiss can wait.

Nell doesn’t release my hand. I don’t want her to. She pulls me next to her, returning me to my place sitting by her side, and together we watch the waters of Leanan’s Vein gleam with the light of the sun.

I’m glad she doesn’t want to head to Olemiss yet. I feel… exhausted. Happy, but exhausted. I feel myself starting to nod off, resting my cheek upon her shoulder. She grips my hand tighter, leaning her head against mine. I allow her fingers to intertwine with mine and I close my eyes, forgetting about the rest of the world around me at the moment..  All that matters is that I’m with Nell, bound to her and only her.


	11. Olemiss

I’m on my back and I feel a heap of dirt sprinkle on my face, getting in my eyes, nose, and mouth. It neither looks, smells, or tastes particularly pleasant, and I start to stand to find the cause, except Nell has her arm across my chest, resting her head on my shoulder.

“What in Hvass’ name are you doing, sleepin’ here!?” I recognize that voice.

I look up and I see Ibra standing by my head. She kicks the ground, causing more dirt to scatter over me. This time it wakes Nell up as well, and she frantically scrambles to her feet, though her elbow lands on my stomach as she gets up, knocking the wind out of me.

By the time I manage to stand myself up, Nell already has her bow drawn with an arrow nocked.

“Back away! W-wait, Ibra? What are you doing here!?”

“Lookin’ for you, of course! I was waitin’ for you to show up in Olemiss not long after me, and now it’s well into dusk.”

Nell holsters her bow, bowing apologetically, not saying anything. I don’t know what to say either.

“If you prats just wanted some private time, all you hadda do was say so. ‘Stead you had me worried somethin’ stopped you on your way.”

“We didn’t want private time, we came to see the river.”

“And I s’pose that’s why you was sleepin’ in each other’s arms, ah?”

“That’s not important, Ibra! How far did you walk to get here?”

“Only ‘bout an hour, I’d say.”

“That’s… a lot closer than I thought.”

“Damn right it is! Which is why I ‘spected you to show up at Olemiss before the sun even peaked, let alone went down. When night came and I still hadn’t heard of your ‘rrival, I figured somethin’ was botched. Turns out I walked all this way just to see you both liggin’ in the grass.”

“My apologies. Your intentions are appreciated, but we didn’t ask you to come and check on us.”

“I know that! But I did anyways, ‘cause I was bored. Drinkin’ at the tavern is only fun for so long, ya know.”

“Oh… I see.”

“Right! Well, how ‘bout we get going to Olemiss now …or are you gonna stay here and send me walkin’ back on me lonesome again?”

“I suppose we should go. Falling asleep here wasn’t exactly what I’d planned. Enoch, shall we?”

“Sure.”

“Hold on a tic, who’s Enoch?”

~

The whole walk to Olemiss is accompanied by Nell explaining how I suddenly have a name. Ibra doesn’t say much, and it doesn’t seem like she listens much either. She keeps picking up rocks and tossing them into the river while we walk and talk.

The moon’s reflection on the river makes the night seem much brighter than usual, and we don’t have to worry about losing our sense of direction, as the river only flows in one direction, and we’re supposed to follow the current to reach Olemiss.

“So what’re you two plannin’ to do in Olemiss once ya get there?”

“We hadn’t really considered that. I just figured we ought to head there so Enoch can… um… I don’t know. I’m leaving it up to him.”

Ibra looks at me expectantly.

“I just follow Nell. I’d be dead without her.”

“Fair enough. You two got any dosh, then? Whatever you’re aimin’ for in Olemiss, you’ll prob’ly need some tit for tat.”

Unable to understand half of what Ibra says, I let Nell continue to do the speaking, as usual.

“Not right now, but I can hunt and trade meat and skins for whatever we need.”

“Well, since you’re strapped, I’ve got some pekoe bricks for you left over after sellin’ my haul from earlier today.”

“No, I couldn’t accept that. We’re already indebted to you as it is, for feeding us last night.”

“It was just a bit of a helpin’ hand, yeah? S’no biggie.”

“Ibra, I…”

“I got nothin’ but the amber nectar to spend it on.”

Nell lets out a sigh. “…Fine.”

She lets Ibra place several small blocks of what looks like solid leaves into her hand. Nell unties a small sack of bright fur from around her waist and dumps them inside.

“You’re welcome.”

“Thanks.”

We keep walking along the riverbank. The water seems to be flowing faster, though it’s hard to make out the actual ripples in the water. It definitely sounds like it.

No words are spoken. Nell and Ibra seem to be walking faster now, and I pick up my pace to keep up with them. The sounds of the water are clearly roaring now.

I find out why. The land suddenly stops, and Leanan’s Vein is simply spilling over the horizon. Nell and Ibra seem unconcerned. In fact, Nell seems to be smiling.

“We’re here.”

Nell starts walking so fast I practically have to run to catch up to her. Ibra lags behind at her own pace. I pass her by as I finally reach Nell when she comes to a stop near the edge, looking down.

The land creates natural walls of rock which circle all around the area below us, like a tall bowl.

Looking down, I see a mass of wooden structures. Buildings and pathways connecting between patches of grassy land. Beneath that is a massive pool of water. The soft orange glow of encased flames reflect off of the water, and the glare flickers against the rock walls all the way up to where we are standing.

To our left is a downward slope of grass which follows the curvature of the rock face, creating a natural staircase along the inside of the cliff all the way down to the bottom of this massive hole.

The waterfall at the edge of Leanan’s Vein ripples the water ceaselessly, and the roaring sound of water crashing down upon rock and more water is ever present. Rather than pink, as Nell described, the orange overcast of firelamps causes the water to appear a bright shade of red, like that of fresh blood.

“Doesn’t seem to have changed a bit.” Nell mumbles to herself. “Good.”

I’d assumed Nell had been here before, but I decide to act like I had no idea as I’m interested in learning more about her.

“You’ve been here before?”

“Of course. I probably spent most of my younger days here. It’s been years since I’ve visited, though. I wonder if Bedouin’s retired from running the choultry yet.”

Ibra’s voice comes in from behind me as she weaves her way into the conversation before I can speak again.

“Nah, that boof’s still keepin’ that glorified shack standin’.”

“As I should’ve expected. He’s too stubborn to let anyone else run the place.”

I don’t know who Bedouin is, but both Nell and Ibra seem to. They continue to chatter, but since I have no clue what they’re talking about in the first place, I don’t follow what they say. So much for getting to know Nell better. She’d rather talk to Ibra, I guess. They probably have a lot more in common.

They walk and talk down the grass-covered path along the inside of the cliff’s edge and I trail behind them as we all descend to Olemiss.

~

Little progress seems to be made after a lot of walking. Everything seemed much smaller from the top of the bowl. The pool of water at the bottom is stretching out into a decent sized lake. There’s no telling how deep it could be.

Eventually, we’re stopped by a wooden gate extending across our natural staircase as the ground begins to flatten out. A bright lamp burns atop the gate, where a watchtower seems to be situated.

As soon as we enter the radius of light emitted in front of the gate, two people emerge from either side of the fixture, looking down at us with… smiles on their faces?

“Hail!” Two foreign voices chime out in unison. One man and one woman, by the sound of it.

The male voice continues speaking. “Ibra, glad to see you’re back! Are these the fellow travelers you went out to find?”

Then the female speaks. “Of course they are, you div! Why else would she have come back with them?”

“Would you two prats just shut up and open the gate already!?”

“Looks like you made her mad, Morrin.” the male says.

“Shut up, Semyon! She’s always mad!” the girl shouts back.

“Hey! I’m only mad when I’m tanked!” Ibra yells.

“And you’re always tanked!”

“Only when you’re around, Morrin!”

Ibra and Morrin, the female guard, continue bickering as the gate opens up. I assume Semyon is to thank for that.

We’re greeted by them on the other side of the gate.

Both of them seem rather young, maybe my age, but their faces are fine and smooth. Weak. It’s strange. I’ve never seen a guard with a young and clear face. Maybe they’re new. Both of them are smiling. I didn’t know guards could smile.

“Welcome to Olemiss! Pleased to meet you, my name’s Semyon.” The male guard immediately gets uncomfortably close to me and extends his hand straight out at gut-level.

When I do nothing, he awkwardly returns his hand to his side and backs away from me. “So… erm… what’s your name?”

Before I can answer, Nell steps up beside me and saves me from the strange man. She extends her hand to him in the same fashion he did to me, and they grab each other’s hands for a second, before letting go again. Weird.

“Don’t mind him, he doesn’t mean to be rude. He’s just new around here, that’s all. My name is Nell. He’s Enoch.”

“Hi.” I state plainly.

“No worries, mate! Olemiss is a lovely place, you’ll get used to it in no time!”

“Okay.” I don’t know what else I should say.

The female guard, who I assume to be Morrin, steps in. “Semyon, it’s primal nightfall, my guess is these folks want to sleep. We can do the whole meet and greet tomorrow. Ibra knows these guys, so they’re alright enough.”

“I get it, alright! I just like to talk to different people. Trying to talk to you all night gets to be such a drag sometimes, you know?”

“Shut up, Semyon!”

The bickering guardsmen wave us away and return to the top of the gate with each other.

“Well, you two just met Morrin and Semyon, the new night gate guards.” Ibra announces.

She and Nell keep talking to each other, and I allow myself to lag behind so that they walk ahead of me. The two of them know this place. I’m the outsider. I don’t belong here. I start feeling like I’m invisible. Part of me wishes that I was.

CRACK!

“Come on, you twit. There’ll be plenty a time for sightseein’ later.”

Apparently I’m not invisible, as I’m startled by Ibra shouting back to me.

Nell falls back to walk beside me, and Ibra looks impatient.

“If you two’re gonna stop and pass out on the ground again, I swear on me mum I--”

“Go on ahead, Ibra. We’ll catch up with you later.”

“See you anon, then. I’ll be at Bedouin’s.”

Nell waits for Ibra to walk away before she says anything.

“You okay, Enoch?”

“Yes.” I feel as if speaking requires a lot more effort than it should.

_ Where am I? _

“Are you being honest with me, or are you just saying that?”

I’d forgotten how well she knows me.

“…I don’t know.”

_ What am I doing here? _

“Talk to me, Enoch.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

No. She doesn’t know me. She doesn’t know me and I don’t know her. I can’t know her. I’m just a slave. A slave without a duty. I was disposed of and should have died shortly after that. Instead I wound up here, where I don’t belong.

“I’m calling bosh on that, tough guy. We’ve plenty to talk about. Now what’s bothering you?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re not convincing me.”

Damn her. I don’t want this to be such a big deal.

“I just don’t belong here. That’s all.”

“You just need to adjust first. We’ve only just arrived. Give it time.”

“Okay.”

I don’t feel any better or reassured, I just don’t want Nell to worry about me. I shouldn’t be her problem.

“Chin up, huh?”

Nell cups my jaw and meets my gaze with those knowing eyes of hers. She smiles at me. I struggle to make my face smile back.

“You look tired. Let’s go see Bedouin. I think you’ll like him.”

She glides her hand along my jawline and briefly strokes the scar that mars my cheek, and the tingling sensation she causes lingers even after her hand is gone. I allow myself to breathe, not realizing I’d been holding my breath, and I give her a dozy nod. She turns away, and I follow.


	12. Catching Up

We finish our descent down the side of the massive bowl, and I know we’ve actually entered Olemiss when all the ground is replaced with smooth wooden planks held up on stilts, and the water is only a few feet below our foundation.

Small candles encased in glass are spread throughout the town, in front of every building. The village seems to be almost entirely made up of small shacks. There doesn’t seem to be very many, regardless. I could count maybe one dozen or so houses, and that’s it.

The town is quiet, strangely empty. I’d expected more people, though I’m glad there aren’t any.

“Where is everybody?”

“I imagine just about everyone is asleep at the moment.”

“In these buildings?”

“Yeah.”

“How many people are there?”

“In Olemiss? Well, it’s always been a small town, with only a handful of permanent residents. Which is why I like it. Roamers like me stop by pretty often to trade pelts or meat in exchange for shelter or to have their equipment repaired or newly crafted with much better quality.”

“And that’s why we’re here?”

“Yep. But we can worry about that in the morning. First we need to establish our presence and get ourselves a room to sleep in. Hopefully Bedouin’s feeling charitable tonight.”

We come to a stop at a much larger house compared to most of the others we’ve passed, that is twice as tall and three times as wide, built into the side of the cliff wall that circles around the entire village.

“This is it. Doesn’t look like it’s changed much.”

Nell opens the front door and steps inside without any hesitation. I hear a bell ring as she does so, and I worry we’ve triggered some sort of alarm, though she pays it no mind.

Within, the interior is well-lit with lanterns spaced evenly across fine wooden tables. On the far end of the room is a rather large man standing behind a high counter. Curiously enough, there aren’t any seats.

“Oi! Who’re y--Well I’ll be damned. Nell, girl, what brings ya here? I ain’t seen ya since near a year ago! How were the steppes?”

With his naturally booming voice, the man speaks even more crudely than Ibra does, blurring together his words and pronouncing them in strange ways, adding extra vowels to some words and removing them from others.

He’s wearing a dark green tunic of what looks to be pure linen, and likewise pleated trousers beneath them. The neckline comes rather far down below his collarbone, but most of the exposed skin is covered by a scraggly greying dark orange beard that rounds out as it reaches his chest.

Nell raises her voice as if to match his, making their whole conversation reverberate throughout the entire tavern, even though she’s now leaning on the counter just across from the man.

“Another time, Bedouin. I’m not really visiting for myself, though I expect we’ll be staying for awhile. I’ve brought a… a friend with me who needs some gear and whatnot.”

“I see.” He turns his head to me. “You, friend. What’s ya story?”

Nell answers, “His name is--”, before being cut off.

“I’m talkin’ to him, aren’ I? Let the boy speak for hisself.”

Nell grins and then nods to me, as if giving me permission to speak.

_ No. Not permission. Encouragement. _

“Um, my name is Enoch, sir.”

“Don’t be so quiet, lad. Speak up.”

“My name is Enoch!” I feel like I’m yelling the words, but even so, I don’t think I’m being loud enough for the broad-shouldered brute towering over me.

He even laughs louder than I shouted, bouncing a quick, ‘Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh’ off the walls of his abode, before barking at me again.

“Speak with ya gut, boy. Not yer neck.”

Nell steps back into the conversation, rescuing me from having to figure out what he means by that. She doesn’t let him cut her off this time.

“Do you see that number on his chest?” She points to my mark.

“What’re you… oh! I dinae even see tha’!”

“Right. He’s an escaped slave. I found him in the fringe just a few days ago.”

“The fringe? What in blazes were ya doin’ in the fringe, lass? When you left us last, you were fixed on taming the steppes to the north!”

“It’s a bit of a long story. How about you serve us up some drinks, and then we’ll tell you?”

“I s’pose that’s fine. What’ll it be, then?”

“Have you got milk?”

“Aye. Fresh too. There’s a herd of yaks stopped not too far out today.”

“Alright. How much for a glass?”

“Bah! First time I see you in almost a year, and you think I’m gonna charge you for a drink! Yer off yer head, lass.”

“You know me.” Nell laughs. “Thanks, Bed.”

“And yer friend, too. Enoch, innit? What’ll ya have?”

“Um…”

I don’t know what I should say.

“We got water, yak’s milk, and amber nectar here. Have yer pick, whatever you want. The night’s on me.”

The only thing I’ve ever had is water. I don’t have a clue what the other things are.

“W-water?”

“He said he’ll have some milk.” Nell butts in. She has a mischievous grin on her face.

“N-no, I--”

“Alright. I already closed up shop, so everythin’s up in the cellar. Be back in a tick.”

Bedouin heads upstairs, moving surprisingly fast for a man of his size, leaving Nell and I alone at the counter.

“I didn’t say I wanted milk. I asked for water.”

“I know. But you’ve drank water before. I’m pretty sure you’ve never had milk. Pretty sure you've never had mead either, but... we'll save that for another day.”

She’s right, but still…

“Trust me, you’ll like it. You’re gonna have to get used to trying new things.”

“Everything is a new thing now.”

“I know, Enoch… I know…”

She places her hand over mine as it rests against the counter. Her palm is warm and sweaty, but I don’t want her to let go.

“I know this is a lot for you. But it’ll be okay. If you ever get to feeling like a stick in the mud, remember that I’m here for you. You can always talk to me.”

“I know.” I mumble, staring down at the counter. Nell squeezes my hand just a little bit tighter.

I hear heavy footsteps above us return to the stairs, accompanied by the sounds of clinking pottery. Bedouin comes into view, clumsily making his way downstairs with an iron tray of several tall ceramic mugs in his hands. He notices us standing by the counter.

“Oi, you don’t have to stand there! Pull up a stool, have a seat!”

Nell quickly releases my hand, placing it by her side.

“There aren’t any stools, Bed.”

“Oh, sod it, wait here.”

Bedouin sets the tray on the counter and immediately rushes back up the stairs.

Nell giggles under her breath.

“So how do you like Bedouin?”

“I don’t know him.”

Nell sighs in annoyance. “But what do you think of him so far?”

“He’s loud. He speaks strange. You seem to know him though, so I guess he’s okay.”

“You seem nervous. Don’t be. I get that he can be intimidating, but he’s really a big softie.”

“Okay.” I don’t see what she’s trying to get at.

Bedouin descends back down the stairs with two wooden stools each under an arm.

“Here ya go now, sorry about tha’. I closed up a few hours ago, so everythin’s upstairs. Now go on! Have a seat! Make yerselves at home!”

Bedouin sets the stools behind us and pushes them into the backs of our knees, forcing us to sit.

“Now, with tha’ all sorted out, gimme this story.”

“Bedouin.” Nell states monotonously.

“Wha’?”

“The drinks.”

“Ah, shite! Hold on.”

Nell smiles and shakes her head to herself.

This time he lifts up a trap door behind the counter and takes the tray of ceramic vases down with him. A draft of cool air escapes through the opening in the floor, and we wait silently for him to return.

He comes back up with the same bunch of vases as before, setting them back down on the counter. Nell immediately grabs a vase and drinks directly out of it. When she brings it back away from her lips, a thin line of white liquid forms a moustache on her face. She notices me staring, and then wipes it off, smiling shyly.

“Are you not thirsty, Enoch?”

“Drink yer milk, lad. That way you’ll get to be tall and strong.”

I like Nell being taller than me. And I’m strong enough already.

“He’s not a child, Bedouin. Still, Enoch, he served you a drink, it’d be rude if you didn’t drink it.”

Taking the hint, I hesitantly pick up the vase, looking down inside. It’s not clear, but it doesn’t look dirty. I’ve never imagined drinking anything other than water before. But Nell drank it, so it should be fine.

I tentatively bring the vessel to my lips, taking a small sip.

“He’s never drank anything but water before.” I overhear Nell whispering to Bedouin.

“Shite, no kiddin’?” He fails to whisper back to her. “Well, how is it, lad?”

It’s a taste I’ve never experienced before. It’s… rich, thick, and sweet, but it… goes down smooth.

Before I know it, I’ve downed half of the entire container.

“I think we know the answer to that, Bed. Um, Enoch, your lip.” Nell points to the same spot she had a white moustache at before. I wipe it off into my forearm, thankful she reminded me.

“Alright, now, I know I dinnae forget anythin’ else, an’ if I did, I’ll say yer full o’ sod. Now, start talkin’. Whichever one o’ you wants to share your stories first.”

Nell speaks first, thankfully. I don’t know how I should start my ‘story’. To me, it doesn’t feel like much of a story. It’s just a series of things that happened. I guess that’s kind of what a story is supposed to be.

“I haven’t got much of a story to tell, to be honest. You know I left late in the fall, heading north through the borean weald, and winter caught up before I could find any sort of shelter up in the steppes. It’s harsh up there, especially during the season of cold.”

This is the first time I’ve heard Nell talk about what she did before we’d met, and I can’t help but be enthralled. I’ve heard strange things happen during the winter the further north you go. Like the rain turns white and solid and falls slowly, and I always imagined ashes from a burning tree floating down from the sky. I think it’s supposed to be called ‘snow’ when that happens. Even though she says it was harsh, I’m curious. I’ve never heard of a ‘weald’ before. Maybe I could go up to the weald with her. In the winter. I’d like to see snow. And the weald. And the steppes, like she wanted to.

“I had to double back and spend most of the that in the weald, hunting to feed myself and keeping myself warm. I used up most of my supplies I’d intended to take with me to the steppes by the time the weather got fit to travel in.”

“Aye, I get tha’, but it don’t explain how you got to the fringe. That’s aways south o’ here.”

“I… I got lost.”

“You? You got lost? Right… an’ I’m guessin’ ya also got crowned queen o’ the empire while you were at it, too.”

“Shut it, Bed. I got pushed deeper into the weald than I’d originally thought. The blizzards started to get real bad, so I went deeper into the woodlands where the winds wouldn’t be as heavy.” 

“Go on.”

“So when the winter finally ended, I went south, expecting to be led down into the marshes, which shouldn’t have taken any more than a week at my pace. But I never hit the marshes. I wound up in some sort of woodlands, so I figured I must have been in the west end of the great forest. I didn’t want to go back north, so my best bet for getting my bearings would have been to head southeast, until I reached the barrens, which, of course, took me through the fringe.”

Nell stops to take a large gulp of her drink, wiping off her upper lip as soon as she pulls it away.

“My plan was, once I spotted one of the Empire’s buildings, I’d be able to be sure of exactly where I was, and then I’d circle back up to Olemiss.”

“And then ya met this lad, here, aye?”

“Yep. Set up camp as soon as I was in the fringe, and the next dawn I went to go see where in the barrens I’d emerge. Soon as the trees were clear, I saw one of their compounds. Alexithyme.”

“Shite, Alexithyme? That’s where the lad is from? Isn’t that the one where they feed--”

“Bedouin.” Nell says authoritatively, cutting him off. She just barely shakes her head enough for me to notice.

“Right.” Is Bedouin’s only response, which confuses me. He looks at me briefly, and I detect pity in his eyes before he returns his attention to Nell again.

“Anyways, I was on my way back to my camp when I heard a timber troll throwing a temper tantrum. Naturally, I wanted to see what was happening.”

“Ah. Finally, some excitement!” Bedouin exclaims, returning to his old, surly demeanor.

Nell takes another swig of her drink, this time forgetting to wipe her upper lip when she finishes.

“And that’s when I come across him,” she limply slaps my shoulder with the back of her hand, “in this willow tree, with a timber troll trying to knock him out of it.”

“Wait.” I have to interrupt. “I thought I was already on the forest floor by the time you came along.”

“Hahah, no. That was when I intervened, yeah. But I saw the whole scuffle before that.”

“Stop arguin’ about the fine details and keep goin’ with the story. I want ta hear this.”

“Alright. So the timber troll manages to shake the tree enough to make Enoch here fall out. Luckily he didn’t break anything when he landed.”

“Ooh, ouch.”

“He didn’t seem to think so though, because he was on his feet in a split second when the beast was roaring over him, and I was readying an arrow, as at this point, I’d decided I was going to save him. I had a clear shot and everything.”

“Good on you, lass.”

Nell’s voice grows dramatically intense, making me feel alert and excited.

“Hold on, though, I’m not done! So the troll was roaring above him, right? Well, I’m guessing Enoch didn’t like getting yelled at, because the next thing I know, he’s leaping fist first at the beast.”

“For truth? Yer straight barmy, man!” Bedouin shouts at me, even though he’s only right across from me on the other end of the counter.

“So he puts his fist straight IN the things mouth, and the beast gags on Enoch’s arm. The troll snaps his jaws shut, but he pulled his arm back out just before they closed, and he had the troll’s tongue squeezed tight in his grip. He got the beast to bite its own tongue off.”

“Yakshite! This lad here fought off a timber troll all by hisself, unarmed?”

“No, no, stop guessing ahead. The troll cried louder than any other beasts cry I’ve ever heard before, but it was still standing. I don’t think Enoch knew what to do then, because he was just standing there, frozen, with the beast’s tongue still in his hand. That’s when I came in, while I had a second chance at a clear shot. One arrow in the gut to stop the troll in his tracks, make him cramp up, then one more in its neck to finish it off.”

She acts as if she’s firing arrows from a bow made of air in her hands as she finishes her boasting story. I can’t help but admire her enthusiasm. It’s childlike, but… refreshing, in a way.

_ I should try to add to the story. That would be more… entertaining, right? _

“The first arrow flew right past my ear.”

“Well, yeah. I wanted to surprise you, after all.” Nell smirks.

“Aye, tha’ will make a great tale... once I give it a few embellishments, o’ course. You’ll be the talk o’the town.”

“Don’t go too crazy now, Beddy.”

“Ah, well, you know me.”

“Yeah, and that’s why I’m worried you’re going to muck up the story too much.”

“Bah! You’re no fun.”

“Oh, go soak your head, Bed.”

“Hahah! That’s a good one, lass.”

“Anyways…”

“Anyways, right. So that’s where you two met up… Enoch, lad,  tha’ means it’s yer turn!”

I don’t know what I should say. Nell managed to entertain all of us when she was speaking.

“Um… my story isn’t as interesting.”

“I’ll be the judge o’ that, lad.”

“Well…”

I start with the beginning of that day at the compound, when I’m first handed the machete…

~

I re-tell my perspective of all the events that led up to when I met up with Nell, and after that, Nell takes over and tells Bedouin what transpired on our way here, going over the major events like when I fell unconscious on the way to Nell’s camp, going to the marshes, nearly drowning in mud, curing my vein-rot, and meeting Ibra.

“And then we came here.” Nell concludes.

“Wicked story, tha’. Ya said you came here with Ibra, right? Where is she?”

“I don’t know. We split up once we passed the upper gate. Enoch and I were walking too “slow” for her, so she went ahead on her own. She said she’d be coming here. You haven’t seen her?”

“No. Probably decided to go back to her camp. She’s like you, never stays in town very long. Never goes too far away, though, either.”

“She’s still pretty young to be living on her own, don’t you think?”

“Aye, but her mum was a roamer same as you. Raised her the same way. One day they stopped by here, then the mum left the wee lass here. During the winter too, not too long after you left last.”

“Her mother abandoned her?”

“Maybe, though that’s a bit harsh. Could be she died before she could get back, I don’t know.”

“So Ibra just…”

“Ibra doesn’t talk about it. Never brings up her mum or any o’ that. I don’t think she was ready for her to go. I try to look after her when she lets me, but… she takes after her mum… wants to take care of herself, ya know?”

“Yeah… yeah, I know.”

“That’s all I’m gonna say on tha’. She should be in charge o’ what I’ve told you two.”

“I understand. I’ve one more favor to ask of you, though.”

“You need a room, I’m sure.”

“For a while.”

“I suppose I could do tha’. I know you’ll keep it in good order. Upstairs, last door on yer right. Consider it yours.”

“Thanks, Bedouin. I’ll pay you back somehow.”

“Ya don’t have to, but I’m sure ya will anyway.”

“You know me.”

“Right you are.”

Nell turns to me, despite how well I’d managed to make myself invisible for the majority of her conversation with Bedouin.

“Shall we see where we’ll be sleeping for the coming months?”

I nod to her, then to Bedouin as I turn to follow Nell up the stairs.

“Oh, and the bed creaks a bit, just so ya know!” Bedouin shouts to us as we turn our backs on him.

“That won’t be a problem, Bedouin!” Nell shouts back. “Dirty old sod.” I hear her mutter under her breath as we ascend the stairs.

At first I didn’t understand what he meant when he said that, but after hearing Nell’s last comment, I think I get it. Part of me feels uneasy at the realization, but I don’t say anything about it. I just follow Nell down the hall of the upper floor, passing several thick wooden doors.

“Here we are.” Nell announces, opening the furthest door on our right.

 

Within lies a modest-sized bed that could fit two people if they were pressed against each other, but not large enough for two to rest apart. A roughly knee-high wooden frame separates the actual bedding from the floor, and the bedding itself looks to be made of stretched bright brown wool. It looks like it would be amazingly comfortable.

My mind takes me back to the night I spent with Nell in the cave while we were in the marshes, but I shake the idea from my head. That was just because I was at risk of freezing otherwise. I can sleep on the floor. I’m used to that.

Beside the bed is a small table with a stick of butter standing upright in a cup of molded clay. Within the stick of butter is a protrusion of what appears to be a twig of bright wood.

As the door closes behind me, the room suddenly becomes dark as pitch, not unlike the darkness of my cell whenever that door was slammed shut. My eyes are used to these changes, and they quickly adjust enough for me to see Nell’s silhouette kneeling down by the end table, mumbling to herself.

“Here we are… and…”

**_Tch!_ **

A spark of light bursts into a flame in front of Nell, startling me and making my eyes readjust to having light in the room, even if it’s still rather dim.

“Perfect!” she exclaims as I hear her leap onto the bed, rubbing the soreness of the sudden glare out of my eyes.

I guess sleeping arrangements are already settled, and I lower myself to the floor at the fool of the bed, using the frame to prop my head against.

“Enoch…” Nell addresses me in a condescending tone.

I don’t say anything.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor, Enoch.”

“There’s not enough room.”

“I’ll make room, then.”

“No. You got us this room, it’s your bed.”

“It’s  _ our _ bed. We’re traveling companions. There’s nothing wrong with sleeping in the same bed. Now come on, I’m not letting you sleep on the floor when there’s a perfectly decent bed to be had.”

“But--”

“I don’t make you uncomfortable, do I?”

“N-no, I--”

“Then what’s the issue?”

I don’t know how to respond. I feel like we’ve had this conversation before. Yet I still feel… afraid. Why, I don’t quite understand. It’s just Nell. I… I want to be close to her, but… 

_ “I pity you.” _

Her voice from before rings in my head, and I think I might understand my avoidance of her.

_ I don’t want to make her sad. _

“Enoch… you don’t have to mouse from me.”

_ I’m making her sad now. _

I force myself off of my resting space on the floor to see Nell under a sheet of threaded wool, raising one side of the blanket up… beckoning me to climb in with her.

Hesitantly, I obey her gestures, awkwardly rolling myself into the space she’s made for me. She drapes the covering over me as I’m still settling myself, and she reaches over to pull me into her arms.

My heart skips a beat, and then another, as I acclimate to the warmth of Nell’s body against mine, as well as the insulation of the soft woolen blanket she’s wrapped around the two of us. I focus my sight on the solitary flame on the end table beside the bed, consciously having to remind myself to breathe as she starts to speak softly, barely audible over my own forced breaths.

“That’s a lovely candlefire. There’s something that’s just so… peaceful… about it. Don’t you think?”

“I, uh… yeah.”

“The way the dim orange light flickers and softens the shadows around it. It’s not the same as a proper campfire, but I still start to miss candles after a while out in the wilds.”

I’m not sure how I’m supposed to answer her, but I want her to keep talking. Fortunately, she doesn’t need me to speak, as she continues to ramble about candles and campfires.

“My mother knew how to make candles crackle like small campfires did. She’d carve out the softwood from the innards of fallen trees to be the wick, and it’d burn for a long time all on it’s own, sounding just like a real campfire would.”

I’m curious of Nells mother, and want to learn more about how Nell grew up. I don’t even have to say anything as she goes on about candles and her past.

“We couldn’t make candles very often, though. They’re not very useful in the winter for warmth, and in the summer, when the sun did finally go down, we’d have been up for so long we’d always just go to bed rather than bother with making our own light. They were just something we’d make when we didn’t have much else that needed to be done, whenever we had a good supply of food and a comfortable place to camp for a good, long while.”

“That’s… nice.” I want to say more, but there’s nothing I can compare it to. Her past seems so idyllic to me, so… impossibly pleasant. My childhood… I can’t recall any of it. I only know my mothers name, and that she loved me. We lived in a place with lots of high stone walls.

Nell continues to whisper about her happy childhood, and I feel her body laugh against my back as she giggles through her words.

“I remember my mother would make bowls of leaves to collect tree sap as it leaked out over time, but I wasn’t patient enough for it. One time I grabbed this big, heavy branch, almost as big as I was, and I started whacking the tree to try to knock the sap out faster. I wound up hurting my wrist, and couldn’t flex it for nearly a week after that.”

Even talking about getting hurt, she makes it sound so… happy.

“And then that very next week, I did the same thing again! Ah… that was a good summer.”

I wish I could talk about my childhood like that. Thinking about the lack of happy things I can say makes my heart rear up into the back of my throat. Even so, Nell’s recount of ‘that summer’ warms my heart for some reason. The nostalgic tone I detect in her voice is… cute.

I prefer Nell’s voice to my own somber, foggy thoughts, and I lose myself in her reminiscence of a small piece of her past.

She interrupts her own story with an audible yawn, and I can’t stop myself from doing the same.

She pulls me closer so her soft, supple, breasts are pressed snugly against my back. Her skin feels surprisingly cold.

Wait… her skin? Did she take her furs off before she got in the bed? She was already under the covers before I could see anything.

Every part of my body goes stiff as I don’t know what to do or how to react. With one arm draped across my chest she squeezes me close against her, making it easy to feel my heart beating much quicker than I would consider to be normal.

“Nnn… goodnight, Enoch.” she whispers breathily, the hot air she exhales making every little hair on the back of my neck stand solid.

“Uh… good night.” I respond with stilted speech. It doesn’t seem to bother her though, as she somehow seems to have already fallen asleep.

Her arm is still cast over my chest, and I don’t want to risk waking her. As a result, I let myself be trapped in the bed with her. It’s not uncomfortable by any means, it just… I don’t understand.

I lay awkwardly in the bed with Nell, trying to fall asleep, but sleep doesn’t come. I feel Nell’s slow, relaxed breathing pound against my back, each time precedented with a long, smooth, not quite silent inhalation. It doesn’t coordinate with my heart’s rapid thumping, and I doubt my heartrate will die down anytime soon.

I get the feeling tonight’s going to be a long wait.


	13. Making Friends

“Get up.”

I awaken to Nell nudging me awake. I don’t remember when I fell asleep, or how long it took. I might not have been tired then, but now, I want nothing but to go back to sleep.

“Get UP, Enoch. Come on, we’ve got a lot to do today.”

I manage to force myself up into a groggy sitting position, and I squint to take in my blurry surroundings until my eyes can focus.

Nell is fully dressed, with her bow slung over her shoulder and all of her various pouches and satchels attached to her belt. I get the idea she’s ready to leave.

I don’t have anything of my own to take with me but the frayed burlap trousers I’m always wearing. I blink and open my eyes wide to try and energize myself.

“What are we doing?”

“Well, first things first, I’d say you need some clothes. While it might not ever snow, it can still get really cold this far north. Moira’s the person to see about that. We… or rather, you, will also need to earn your place here.”

“I can work.”

“Well, there’s different types of work, and your help would be probably be preferred working where you’re most skilled. Forgive me for asking, but… when you were a slave, what tasks were you normally, um… assigned?”

“Most of the time they had me break dark rocks with a pick. But then the rocks ran out. My latest assignment had been on the fringe, where they had me cut up anything that wasn’t grass. I hadn’t been doing that for long, but long enough to get used to it. And when I was young I worked on the Fields. I collected harvests for Invigilator Seraphim.” I feel a strange sense of pride as I recount my previous duties.

“Well, as long as you have experience, that’ll do well for your background. It’s just… will you be comfortable, going back to doing those sorts of things?”

She’s acting as if I might be ashamed of going back to doing labor. If anything, I’d be proud to make myself useful in some way, but before I can say anything, the bedroom door shakes violently.

**_Thump-Thump-Thump!_ **

“You folks dressed? Ya’d better get up quick, Fenna wants ta talk to ya.” Bedouin’s voice comes in the room through a crack at the bottom of the door.

“Fah.” Nell mutters to herself. “We’ll be out soon!” She announces to Bedouin.

“Who’s Fenna?” I ask.

“She’s captain of the guard here at Olemiss. Now listen, she can be rather… hostile. I don’t know how she’ll react to you, but she doesn’t usually like outsiders. Whatever happens, don’t let her get you angry, okay? You want to be making friends, not enemies.”

“You make it sound like she’s already an enemy.”

“She’s not!” Nell exclaims, becoming uncharacteristically flustered. “She’s just doing what she’s supposed to, making sure Olemiss is safe. Since you’re an outsider, you’re a potential threat in her eyes. She’s pretty stiff about these things. We were actually lucky Morrin and Semyon were the ones on watch when we arrived, they’re a lot more friendly than Fenna. She doesn’t even trust me all that much.”

“Well, I trust you.”

Nell looks down at the floor, obviously trying to suppress a smile without much success. “Thanks. Let’s not keep Fenna waiting then.”

Nell opens the door with a confident stride, where Bedouin is waiting outside.

“She’s downstairs lecturin’ Morrin an’ Semyon.”

“I can’t imagine why.” Nell retorts.

“I don’t think she’s in the right mood today, lass.”

“That’s her problem, then.” Nell walks past Bedouin and down the stairs.

“Ya best be careful down there, lad. Fenna and Nell aren’t on the best o’ terms.”

I nod to the orange-bearded man and follow after Nell. As I descend the stairs, I see who I assume to be Fenna berating Morrin and Semyon.

Her head is shaved, and her face appears to be mildly wrinkled with age. She’s wearing some sort of iron-linked lorica over a hauberk of mail, which extends about halfway down her thigh. Her legs bulge with muscle, and from the look of her thick frame, so does the rest of her armour-clad body. At her hip, she has a thick bastard sword that looks like it would take two hands to wield properly, though she also has a black leather targe slung over her shoulder.

She hears my arrival as the bottom step creaks, turning to face me with a piercing scowl.

“So here’s the newcomer. Couldn’t even be bothered to put a shirt on before he came down.” she mutters with condescension. Her accent isn’t like Bedouin’s or Ibra’s, instead sounding far more like that of an Anedonian. Her attitude, demeanor, even her stance is reminiscent of my former taskmasters’.

Nell starts to speak, “He doesn’t have--”

“Quiet! I’ll hear your excuses later.” Fenna cuts Nell off, without breaking eye contact with me. She guardedly walks toward me, with slow but heavy footsteps. I can tell she’s trying to be intimidating. She easily towers over me, being almost as tall as Bedouin.

“Who are you?” she questions with authority.

“My name is Enoch.” The statement comes out much easier than I’d expected.

“That doesn’t answer my question. Who are you?”

I don’t know how to answer that.

“He’s--” Nell tries to speak again, though Fenna stops her again, raising her own voice.

“HE can speak for himself. Now I’ll ask you one more time. Who are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“I see… Where are you from?”

“I don’t know.”

Nell interjects once more. “Fenna, please. I can answer your questions better than he can. If you’ll just let me explain--”

“Fine then. Speak in his place. Tell me who he is.”

“He’s… he was, a slave. I found him in the fringe, to the north of Styron. I assume that’s where he’s from. He’d been abandoned and left to die by his taskmasters, infected with vein-rot. He didn’t even have a name at the time, he just knew himself by his number.”

“He’s a former slave. Having him here is dangerous. If word spreads, if they find out a slave has escaped and is still alive… at best, they’ll send bounty hunters. Or they might send troops to raid us.”

“He didn’t escape, he was abandoned. They don’t care about him.”

“We don’t know that. They left him for dead, you said. But he didn’t die.”

“So what are you saying? You want to kick him out?”

“I’m just trying to keep us safe.”

“So you want to leave him for dead, just like the empire did?”

“I never said we’re exiling him!”

“What, then?”

“For now, nothing. I just want us to be aware of the dangers. But the town needs to know who’s in their home. I’ll have Yenta spread the news. If there’s enough concern, we’ll have a town meeting on the boardwalk to discuss the matter further.”

“So, we’re free to go?” Nell asks.

“You may go about your business within Olemiss for the time being. Perhaps think about getting some decent clothing, Enoch.”

“That’s what we were planning on doing anyways. Come on.” Nell nods her head toward the door, motioning for me to follow.

“Hold on.” Fenna stops us before we can leave. “Here. To get you started. You don’t look like you have anything to barter with.” She holds out several small bricks of tea leaves, waiting expectantly for me to accept them.

“No.” I step away from her offer, remembering Nell’s earlier statement about earning my place. “Thank you, but no. I want to earn my place here.”

“Very well, then.” She purses her lips into a slight smirk, before returning her offering back to her hip pouch. “We may speak again soon, Enoch.”

Nell is holding the door open to the outside, eager to leave. I nod to Fenna, then join Nell to leave the tavern.

Once the door closes behind us, Nell speaks up again. “You did well.”

“I did?” I inquire, not sure what she means.

“Yes. Fenna tested you back there, seeing how you’d handle being given a handout. I think you made a good impression on her, by not accepting. She likes it when people pull their own weight. They’re the kind of people this town wants.”

“I just don’t like feeling like I owe people something. I already owe you more than I can give.”

Nell sighs dejectedly, as I’ve grown to expect from her whenever I bring up my debt to her. “We’ve been over this, Enoch. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Yeah.” I mumble, still not convinced on that matter.

“I wouldn’t worry about getting kicked out. Olemiss is an independent settlement, so most of the people here don’t concern themselves about the empire.”

“But is it possible? Could I be tracked down by the empire?”

Nell sighs again, an obvious sign that she doesn’t like this conversation anymore.

“Sort of. This is half the reason why we need to get you a shirt. As good as you look without one, if an Anedonian, or… anyone without a heart sees the brand on your chest, they could try to take you back for a reward. But the empire’s reach doesn’t extend this far north. Their ‘laws’ don’t apply here.” Nell spits over the edge of the boardwalk, into the pink waters below. “And they never will.”

Nell is silent for awhile, though I’m hesitant to speak, as if I’d be interrupting her. She furrows her brow and just stares down at where her spit bubbles begin to fuse with the water.

“Is there any way I can remove it?” I manage.

“Remove what?” She asks, not really paying attention.

“The brand.”

Nell sighs yet again. “Look, for now let’s just get you some clothes to cover it up, okay?”

I know her well enough by now to see when Nell wants to change the subject, so I don’t press the matter. I simply nod to Nell, and she responds with a somber look before turning away, and we walk along the boardwalk in silence.

As we walk past the shacks of Olemiss, I notice wooden posts in front of some with words carved into them.

We pass a stone building with a metal sign out front displaying ‘ _Fergus’ Forging and Metalworks’_ as well as a small shack and an old wooden post with _‘The Junkshack’_ carved into it, before coming to a stop at _‘Moira’s Molds, Modifications, and Tannery’_ , the words barely fitting on the wooden sign. The building is low and wide, only one floor high, but larger the whole way around.

“Alright, now, you might want to cover your nose.” Nell warns as we walk up to the front door. “The smell of curing leather isn’t all too pleasant.”

While I trust in Nell’s advice, I ignore it as I don’t consider a foul smell to be a big deal, which turns out to be a huge mistake on my part.

She briefly knocks on the door, and after a few moments of waiting, faint noises of movement come from inside, and the door opens with a sudden  _ pop! _

The waft of air that assaults my senses almost immediately forces me to gag on my own tongue. Nell giggles at me a bit, but I can see she’s not necessarily comfortable either.

The short lady at the door, however, is completely unphased, a wide smile plastered across her face as she cheerfully greets us.

“Nell! Ibra told me you were back in town! How’s it been out in the wild?”

“It’s been alright, I suppose. I’ll have to give you the details another time, right now I’d like you to meet Enoch.”

I get the feeling I should wave, but I hesitate too long and don’t get a chance before the short woman starts bombarding me with questions.

“So that’s your name, huh? Enoch.” She hums to herself in thought for a moment. “You look more like a Glenn to me, or a Noah. What’s that number on your chest for? Aren’t you chilly wearing nothing but pants?”

Without giving me the slightest opportunity to answer one of her many questions, the short lady gasps, and her eyes flash with realization.

“Is that why you’re here? You need clothes, don’t you!? What are your sizes!? What would you like!? I mostly work with deerskin, but I can use any kind of hide you bring me to make just about anything you need!”

Nell finally steps in and stops the short, hyperactive woman from continuing to talk endlessly.

“Enoch, this is Moira. And yes, we were going to ask you if you could make Enoch some proper clothes. At the very least, some sturdy moccasins and a comfortable shirt, though we don’t know what size would be best.”

“Right! Then let’s get started! Come over here, let’s get you measured!”

Moira grabs me by the wrist and yanks me over next to a low-set table with strangely shaped works of metal and wood. After a lot of confusion and discomfort having her ask me to stand and make strange poses while she holds various measuring tools I don’t understand, she lets me return to the door where Nell has been watching with amusement.

“All set?” Nell asks.

“Yup! Shouldn’t take too long to make, either.”

“And what do you want in return?”

“Oh, well, um… you don’t have to worry too much about payment, I know you’re good for it, and I couldn’t sleep at night knowing he’s in town chilling himself to the bone half naked with bare feet. Consider this a favor.”

“Thanks, Moira.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it! Business has been slow, so there’s not much for me to do. I’ve been stuck making blankets and rugs for the better half of this past year, which is far too simple and boring for me.”

“Well, then I’m glad to give you some excitement, Moi. Still, we’ll pay you back somehow.”

“If you insist, you know deerskins and rabbit pelts are my favorite to work with! Now, I’d better get started. I’ll look out for you when I have a piece done for him. Should be a few days, if that’s alright with you?”

“Yes, that works just fine. We’ll leave you to your work, then.”

“Toota-loo!”

Moira is already stretching out various skins across the wide table that lines the nearly the entire back wall, and Nell beckons her head to the front door, ushering me outside.

“Well, that couldn’t have gone any better.” Nell remarks.

“So what now?” I ask.

Nell sighs, “Now comes the boring part of settlement life. We wait. Best way to pass the time is to find work to do. Normally I’d head out a little ways and set some snares to trap rabbits and maybe hunt a deer if I’m lucky, but, well… I’d rather you get more comfortable before I up and left you alone here.”

“I just need something to do. If Moira is working for my sake, I should start working to repay her.”

“Well, I suppose I could teach you how to set up snares! It’s fairly simple, and a lot easier than actively hunting a beast. But… fah! First we’d have to speak to Fenna again, and let her know we’re heading out of town.”

“You don’t want to talk to her?”

“I just don’t know how she’ll react. I think she expected us to stay in town for awhile.”

Nell trails off as she starts walking to where I assume Fenna will be. I follow suit, hoping we’ll be able to leave. I just want to be back out in the wild with Nell.

We make our way out to the guardpost at the bottom of the valleys trail that winds up to the plains, where Morrin is pressing herself against Semyon, leaning into the railing overlooking the pink lake.

“Having fun!?” Nell calls out to them, and Morrin springs herself away from Semyon in an instant. Semyon looks as if he had the wind knocked out of his lungs with a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth for good measure, and Morrin appears to be mortified at first, though she quickly furrows her brow in annoyance.

“Oh, sod it Nell! Whadda you want!?” she shouts angrily.

“Enoch and I were going to go a bit southwest and set some snares.”

Semyon steps up, having caught his breath. “Well, um, did you check in with Fenna? I don’t want another lecture.”

Ibra butts in from behind us, out of seemingly nowhere.

“Quit bein’ a prat, Semmy. We’re headin’ out.”

“O-okay. Bye then.”

Ibra winks at Nell and heads on her way out of the valley. Nell looks at me and shrugs, and follows after her, leaving Semyon shifting his feet from side to side anxiously.

Morrin shoots an annoyed glare at me, which I take as a challenge. I stay to stare her down a moment, and she rolls her eyes at me. “You gonna go with your little guardian angel, or do we have a problem?”

Knowing nothing good can come from responding, I leave the hostile woman without a word, following after Nell and Ibra, who’ve stopped halfway up the valley trail for me.

“Were they giving you trouble?” Nell asks once I get close enough.

“I don’t think Morrin likes me.”

“Bah, that boot doesn’t like anybody!” Ibra states.

“Except for Semyon.” Nell notes with a chuckle.

“Pfft.” Ibra spits in the grass. “Hardly. I’d bet a week o’ latrine duty that she abuses him when she’s not tryin’ ta get off on his knob.”

“Ibra!” Nell lightly slaps Ibra’s shoulder with the back of her hand.

“What!? You know I’m right!”

“Fah…” Nell shakes her head, trying to keep herself from smiling at Ibra’s wager.

“So what’re you two headin’ out to do? Mind if I tag along?”

“Well… we came out here so I could teach Enoch how to set snares. So…”

“Perfect! I can help with that! Let’s get goin’ then!” With that, Ibra starts marching up the trail.

Nell nudges my shoulder, “Looks like we’re following her now.”

I nod in acknowledgement, hiding my disappointment after hoping I’d be alone with Nell. Ibra has proven herself to be a friend, but she’s loud and doesn’t make a lot of sense.

Ibra half jogs, half skips her way up the trail, and I have to run to keep up. Nell seems not to be bothered by it, but I run out of breath by the time we reach the top, my heart beating rapidly. The unhindered winds of the meadows don’t make catching my breath any easier.

“You okay?” Nell stops to ask in concern.

“I’m fine.” I lie, not interested in causing a conflict over my weakness.

Ibra doesn’t slow down, so we continue to speed after her. If anything, it seems like she’s speeding up, despite the heavy gusts pushing against us. My heart palpitates and my breathing grows ragged and heavy, clearly audible to Nell, as she stops me again.

“It’s not like you to get winded so quickly. You sure you’re not sick?”

The concern in her voice is overridden with authority, making it clear she’s not going to drop the subject without an explanation.

“I just… need to catch my breath.”

“I think I know the issue. You’re durable, but your cardio needs work. Bedouin’s the same way.”

“Fenna can help ya with that!” Ibra shouts as she hops her way back to us.

“Ibra, no, Fenna would break him in half if he sparred with her.”

“Nonsense. She’d have him start with Semmy. E, you ever held a sword before?”

“I used a machete to cut vines and leaves and branches. But never a sword.”

“So, you’ve never proper fought anyone before?”

“No. Not ‘proper’, anyways.” assuming she means proper as in sword fighting.

“Well… honestly, I’d still bet on you in a match against Semmy. So no worries!”

“Ibra, I don’t think… uh oh…”

Nell looks back over my shoulder, and when I turn around to see what it is, my heart sinks. At least it’s not pounding anymore.

Fenna is marching down the field toward us, accompanied by Semyon. Semyon looks scared, while Fenna has the same stone-cold expression as usual.

Semyon is the first to speak, “Sorry, guys. She--”

“Shut it, Semyon.” Fenna barks. “You three! What are you doing?”

“We were going hunting, Fenna. That’s all.”

“Why didn’t you check in with me first? I understand Enoch doesn’t know the rules, but you should know better.”

“Sod that! I never check in, Fen! What’s your deal with Nelly and E?”

“You’re different. You’ve made Olemiss your home, more or less. Enoch, I don’t know at all, and he’s a slave of the empire. You, however,” she turns to tower over Nell, “you just come and go as you please, sometimes leaving for years, never staying longer than a single season at a time. You may as well be just as much of a stranger as the slave.”

“You will not call him that. He’s not a slave anymore.” Nell steps toward Fenna, a challenging gesture. Despite her stature being a head shorter than Fenna, Nell shows no fear. Fenna’s face remains firm as ever, though her eyes flash with concern.

“Settle yourself. I didn’t come here to fight you, unless you want one. I came to ease my suspicions, before you got too far from town.”

“What’s to be suspicious of? We’re going hunting.”

“For once in your life, be reasonable, Nell. Excuse me for calling… Enoch, correct? Excuse me for calling him a slave, but with that number on his chest, that’s his most distinguishable feature. And that’s all the people of Olemiss have to know about him. Whether you like it or not, being a slave is Enoch’s only background.”

Nell clenches her jaw and exhales sharply.

“She’s right, Nell.” I state, not wanting this to turn into a fight.

Nell backs off and away from Fenna, but still looks angry.

“Thank you for being rational, Enoch.” Fenna compliments, before returning her attention to Nell. “Now, several people have concerns about the empire’s influence. Some are paranoid, worried he might be a spy sent here on behalf of the empire, to report back to them about our security, our supplies, and so on.”

“I’m not a spy.” I state with absolute sincerity.

“I believe you. However, not everyone in Olemiss does. I believe the best way to proceed would be to have you address the town in a city council tonight. That way you will be able to tell all of us your full story, and clarify some of the details.”

“Are you sure that’s wise? He’s not much of a speaker.” Nell asks, on my behalf.

“That just adds to the people’s reasons to be suspicious.”

“I can speak.” I answer plainly. I don’t want Nell doing all of my talking for me. It makes me feel weak.

“Good. You’ll need to in order to convince several of the townsfolk to trust you.” Fenna advises.

“So d’sat mean we ain’t goin’ hunting?” Ibra whines.

“No, Ibra.” Nell answers in annoyance.

“Aw, sod it… Well, maybe after this I can make good on that bet between E and Semmy!”

We decide to be escorted by Fenna back to town, during which Ibra explains her bet on if Semyon and I were to spar, when Fenna, surprisingly, seems interested in.

“Semyon, return to your post with Morrin.”

“Yes ma’am!”

Once Semyon is out of earshot, Fenna speaks up again. “As you can see, we need better security. He doesn’t take his job seriously enough. This may be a peaceful town, but I’m not comfortable having guards who don’t even know how to fight. If you’re interested, I’d be glad to train you to spar sometime. Assuming I’m right about you not being a spy.”

“Okay.” Is all I respond with.

“I’m serious. You’re a bit short, but well built. I could make a strong fighter out of you. And if you can beat Semyon, showing him even a newbie is better than him, maybe he’ll finally be motivated to improve himself.”

Fenna’s words are backed by good intentions, but I’d rather not make any commitments when so much is uncertain. I simply nod and continue walking along in silence.

Eventually, we make our way back to Bedouin’s choultry. Inside several people I don’t recognize are scattered around the tables, drinking and chatting merrily.

Or at least, they were. Moments after we enter, the noise quickly dies down, and unfamiliar eyes stare at me from every direction. Most seem nervous, though some people’s brows are furrowed in anger. I feel as if I’m surrounded by enemies, every pair of eyes another threat. They don’t want me here.

“They don’t want me here.” I repeat my thought aside to Nell.

“Relax. They just don’t know you, is all.” she whispers back.

“Yenta!” Fenna calls out.

A lithe, long-legged woman with disheveled locks of hair promptly makes her way to Fenna. “Yes?”

“Spread the news to everyone in town that there will be a town meeting here at Bedouin’s when the sun meets the horizon today. The discussion will be about the newcomer, Enoch.”

“Got it.” And without any further words, she runs out the door of the tavern.

“Oi! What’s the deal, Fanny?” Bedouin shouts out, making several of the patrons next to him burst in laughter.

Fenna furrows her brow with a slight smirk. “You heard me, you big bastard.” Then she disregards him and turns to address me. “You’re free to spend your time here while you wait for the meeting, or if you’re still interested in sparring, then there’s no reason not to start now.”

I certainly don’t want to be stuck in Bedouin’s tavern for most of the day, while Bedouin has been friendly and generous, the air in his tavern is heavy and thick with the honeyed scents of various mixtures of mead. It reminds me of what Invigilator Seraphim often drank in her study, when she had me tending to her bookshelves, making sure everything was organized and that no dust could gather in any one corner. There was a time when those memories were pleasant, but now…

“Enoch? Are you paying attention?”

_ “Answer me, boy!” _

_ CRACK! _

_ No pain comes along with the sound of the lash, though I still drop the handful of books I’m carrying to the floor of the study. _

_ “S-sorry, Invigilator Seraphim.” I instinctively blurt out, expecting another ‘CRACK’, this time accompanied by the pain of the lash actually connecting, but neither come. _

_ “Foolish boy. Your daydreaming is going to get you killed one of this days. Not every taskmaster is as lenient as I am. Now, as I was saying, you’re going to be learning to read and write.” _

_ “R-read, mistress?” _

_ “Yes, for the second time, I am going to be teaching you how to read and write. You’ve proven to be incredibly useful for your first two years of servitude. As if you weren’t aware already, I frequently take note of and record your performance in the duties you’re given, and your results are significantly superior. Therefore you’ll no longer be working in the fields. You will learn to read and write, and assist me personally in matters which require those skills.” _

_ My heart skips a beat, upon hearing from Invigilator Seraphim herself that she’s impressed with me. A wave of relief washes over me when I realize I’m not being punished, though it’s quickly overcome by fear of what new responsibilities I’ll have, and whether I’ll be able to perform those with the same effectiveness. _

_ “Speak freely, 4-5-7. What thoughts are going through your head?” _

_ I don’t know how to respond. _

_ “Snap out of it, Enoch, I’m beginning to lose my patience.” _

_ Enoch? Did Invigilator Seraphim just call me Enoch? Isn’t that my name? No, no… that can’t be right. I don’t have a name. I’m simply 4-5-7… aren’t I? I don’t understand. My heart skips again. Everything seems foggy. _

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know, he just… daydreams sometimes.”

SMACK!

“I said snap out of it, Enoch!”

My cheek stings slightly, but it’s the sound that makes me aware of Fenna standing before me.

“Don’t hit him like that!” Nell scolds, stepping in between me and Fenna.

“Well, it seems to have worked. Or at least he’s blinking again.”

Nell turns around to face me, and the worried expression she’s wearing forces my heart to sink.

“Are you alright, Enoch?” Her eyes lock with mine as she clasps her hands on my shoulders.

“I’m fine.” I answer, not necessarily a truthful one.

“Do you even know what happened?” Fenna gripes over Nell’s shoulder.

“You spaced out on us, Enoch. Started staring straight ahead at nothing, and you wouldn’t respond to anything we were saying for a good while. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I was just remembering… things.”

“Explain yourself.” Fenna orders.

“He’s been--” Nell starts to speak for me, before Fenna cuts her off.

“I asked him to explain himself. Not for you to speak in his stead.”

“It’s just a long story.” Nell adds. I nod in agreement.

“I have all the time in the world to hear it.”

~

Nell convinces Fenna to let us go to her study in the barracks, rather than the middle of Bedouin’s choultry, to recite everything I’ve recalled up to this point about my past to Fenna personally. Which turns out to be fortunate for her, upon mentioning of Invigilator Seraphim’s name.

“This woman named Seraphim. Describe her to me. What did she look like?” Fenna paces back and forth around the study, almost prowling around me in circles, like a wolf stalking a risky prey.

“She was… tall. I don’t know how tall, I was… much younger and shorter when I last saw her, but I’m guessing around your height.”

“I want specifics, boy!” She snaps, taking this matter even more seriously than I’d expected her to.

“She had… thin lips. She always looked angry, and she wore a lot of dark makeup. Dark violet, mostly. Her hair was black… but it was starting to turn grey.”

“Right, look, did she have a mole on the right side of her face? A little brown dot?”

_ “Invigilator Seraphim, what’s that dot on your face for?” _

_ “Sirrah, I understand I have given you more privileges than the average slave working on my property, but you can’t just start speaking out of turn asking insolent questions such as that. If anyone else were around to see that, I’d have to discipline you.” _

_ “I-I know, mistress, I’m sorry. I was just curious, and the manor is empty. I-I also finished sorting your mail!” I declare with pride. I struggle around pronouncing words like curious, but feel accomplished when I manage to get them out regardless. _

_ “Yes, well, I suppose I can oblige you with an answer. The ‘dot’ on my face is just something I was born with. Some people get them, some people don’t. And they’re called ‘beauty marks’. In any case, I’d advise you not to go around mentioning people’s beauty marks while you’re around them. Many would take offense to that.” _

_ “Oh. O-okay, mistress.” _

_ I don’t really understand why people would be offended, but I don’t ask more about it. _

_ “I’m running low on ink. Go get some more from the presser. You know the drill.” _

_ “Yes, mistress!” _

_ I happily head off to the presser to get my mistress more ink. My mistress. I repeat her title in my head a few times, enjoying the feel of it. She’d permitted me to start calling her mistress so long as nobody else was present, due to Invigilator Seraphim being quite a mouthful. _

_ Life isn’t so bad. I could get used to this. _

“Hey! Answer me, boy! Did she have a mole on the right side of her face?”

“I think so. She called it a beauty mark. It was just under her right eye.”

“DAMN IT!” Fenna sweeps her forearm across her desk, sending parchment flying and everything else crashing down to the floor with a wave of anger. She drives a gauntleted fist into an already battered iron heater shield hanging on the wall, adding another dent to it.

Nell and I stand in stunned silence, Fenna’s breathing being the only sound we can hear. Her shoulders rise and fall as she breathes, rapid and heavy. She doesn’t look at us, instead planting her hands against the desk and staring at the ground.

“Enoch…” she croaks, “you’ll be welcome here in Olemiss for as long as you wish, no matter how tonight’s meeting goes. I promise you that.” 

“Fenna…” Nell murmurs…

“Don’t. I need to be alone for a bit.”

“...okay.” Nell turns to the front door.

“Wait.” Fenna commands. “If…” she sighs, still getting her breathing under control. “If you still want to learn to fight, I’d be willing to spar with you for a bout or two. I think I could use that right now.”

I nod to Fenna in acknowledgement. I might not understand why she’s so worked up, but I know that working, or sparring, in this case, is a good way to work out those emotions.

“Then head up to the surface. I’ll be with you shortly.”

I head out the front door, and Nell follows after me, speaking up as soon as the door closes behind us.

“I’d be careful, Enoch. Fenna’s known to have a temper, but that was… something worse. I don’t know what about Invigilator Seraphim set her off so suddenly, but just… be careful. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You don’t have to worry about me. I can look out for myself.” I chide, the words coming out meaner than I’d intended. To be honest, I am quite nervous about sparring with Fenna.

Even so, I can’t bring myself to apologize to her, and so the rest of the journey to the surface is an awkward, somber silence.


	14. Strife

“Okay, you want to learn to fight, we start with the basics. Grab a standard sword and shield.” Fenna drops a bundle of clanking steel weaponry tucked under her armpit, and unslings a heap of various sized shields from over her shoulder.

“You’re going to be using real weapons?” Nell frets.

“The blades are dulled thick, not even capable of dismembering straw dummies. Now, take up arms!”

I grab a simple looking sword and take the smallest looking shield from the pile. The shield slings around my forearm and centers itself over the back of my hand.

“The arming sword, basic, but universally effective. It might not look fancy, but it gets the job done, and that’s what matters. Combined with a buckler, the smallest and lightest, yet weakest of shields, made of studded leather. All in all, a fine set… so long as you know how to use it. Which we’ll soon be seeing about. Now, try to strike me!”

Fenna raises her own thick shield made of wood and steel, and holds herself in a guarded stance. I’m not sure of what to do.

“Fenna, I--”

“Don’t speak, just strike me. Try to get past my guard.”

I swallow my discomfort with the prospect of trying to harm Fenna, and take up my own stance. Fenna just laughs, briefly, before reassuming her stoic expression.

I sidestep, trying to see an opening where I might be able to break through, but Fenna matches every one of my movements with absolute precision. I’ll have to face her head-on.

Hesitantly, I close the distance with her, before suddenly bashing my shield into hers and swinging my blade overhead. I don’t even manage to raise my sword, however, as she knocks me back with her own shield, and I stumble backwards and trip over my own heel.

“On your feet, Enoch. You’ve yet to strike me.”

I stagger up to my knees, rethinking my strategy. Fenna’s larger than I am, and firm as stone. Charging won’t work. But I can’t get around her, either.

I swing my sword at her midsection, still down on one knee, hoping to bypass her block, but she instead raises her armored boot and brings it crashing down into my wrist, knocking my blade from my grasp. I barely manage to jerk my arm out from under her foot before it would’ve been crushed into the ground.

My wrist stings with pain as I try to flex it, reeling away from Fenna, who’s still planted firmly in the same position she was before.

“Retrieve your blade and strike me.” A mischievous grin appears on her face, and I know she’s just toying with me. I’ve half a mind to tell her that I give up, but I grit my teeth and recover my sword from the moist grass.

“Frustrated, Enoch? You can always admit defeat. Though there’s never any certainty if your opponent will grant you mercy.”

“No. But I’m not going to attack you.”

“So you surrender.”

“That’s not what I said.” I mutter.

“Then explain yourself.”

“You want me to attempt to strike you, when you’re fully prepared to block and counter it. You’re mocking me. I’m not meant to manage to land a hit on you either way.”

Fenna’s eyes widen, and another smile spreads across her face.

“Smart boy. A bit disappointing, but smart. Although I don’t intend to mock you. This exercise was meant to show you your own flaws in the way you fight, as well as to give me an idea on how best to help you improve.”

My muscles loosen up at understanding Fenna’s genuine intentions, previously tense from feeling I was being made out to be a fool for sport.

“Okay. I get it. So what am I doing wrong?”

“Not so fast. I’ll tell you that when we’re finished.”

I bite down and chew on my lower lip, lacking any pleasant responses in mind.

“This time, I’m going to hit you. I want you to try to block my attempts. On your guard!”

Planting my feet into the moist grass, my stance doesn’t feel too firm, but it’s the best I can manage. I raise my shield and keep my sword by my side.

Fenna doesn’t waste a moment of time after my weapon is raised. She charges full sprint into me as she rams her shield into mine, causing my elbow to buckle, my forearm collapsing into my chest. The next thing I know, I’m flat on my back, the tip of Fenna’s blade kissing my throat.

“Catch your breath and get up. Once more.”

She pulls her sword away, though she remains towering over me at my feet as I scramble to stand on them again.

Once I’m up, she asks, “Ready?”

I cough when I try to speak, so I pause for a moment. Fenna waits expectantly, staring me down. I straighten my posture and nod.

“Let me know if you feel faint, or if the pain becomes too much. I don’t want to completely break you.”

**‘We want them weak, not broken! The weak are obedient, but the broken are useless.’**

“Enoch, answer me.”

I blink as I recollect my thoughts. Everything is blurry and hot. Sweat beads down my forehead.

“Y-yes, Inv--F-Fenna.”

What am I thinking?

“Yes what? Are you saying we should stop? From the looks of you, perhaps we should.”

“N-no, I’m fine. We can keep going.”

I shake my head back into reality, and I notice Nell sitting on the grass a few paces away. She smiles reassuringly, but her eyes are somber. Concerned. That’s right. She’s been watching me spar with Fenna this whole time. I must seem pathetic to her.

I wish I could make her smile like she did when we first saw Leanan’s Vein. To see her eyes spark and light up in bliss again. Instead Nell is forced to see how weak I truly am in a fight. My heart feels as if it’s been cased in stone.

“At the ready, then.” Fenna barks, and I return my attention to the immediate threat.

I raise my shield, my sword in my grip so tight my knuckles are white and trembling.

Fenna steps forward, her sword arm wound back, and it swings around headed straight for my neck, her height enabling her to swing around my block with ease.

I duck instinctively, lowering my shield as I plant my hands upon the grass, and I see Fenna’s armored boot leave the ground, raising up above me.

I bounce up and charge into her before she gets a chance to finish kicking, my shoulder ramming into the bottom of her chain-mailed thigh. Her other foot then leaves the ground as I push up and forward, sending her staggering backwards into the ground.

But she doesn’t stop upon impact, her other boot connecting with my stomach and sending me sailing over her head-first, and I find myself flat on my back yet again, struggling to catch my breath.

“Hmph. I might make a warrior of you yet, whelp.”

Fenna strides over to where I lay sprawled out on the grass, my chest heaving.

“Come on now, up.” Fenna orders, extending her hand to me in an offer of assistance, which I accept.

I stagger upright, and Fenna clasps her hand upon my shoulder. “We’re done for today. The sun will be going down soon, and it would look bad for you to show up late to the gathering regarding your stay in Olemiss.”

I nod, content that she doesn’t seem wholly disappointed in me. Still, I feel I performed poorly, despite her lack of disdain.

Fenna gathers my sword and shield from where I’d dropped them, and strides back into town, leaving me standing idly in the breeze, alone.

“You managed to actually trip Fenna up. Nice job.”

I’m reminded that I’m not alone when Nell springs up to her feet a few paces away from me. She was watching the whole thing. Anger begins mixing in with the shame Fenna left me with, both of which are directed at myself.

“In a real fight, I’d have been dead just as soon as it began. Doesn’t feel like a nice job to me.”

“Don’t be such a downer. Fenna could incapacitate every single person in this town all on her own without much effort. She’s dedicated to fighting, that’s why she’s essentially the only security Olemiss needs.”

“So I did well?”

“Really well, especially if that was your first time sparring.”

“If you say so.”

I don’t necessarily feel proud, but I know Nell is being genuine, so I try not to dwell on it.

“Well,” Nell sighs, “we should probably get back to Bedouin’s.”

“Okay.”

~

The soreness in my back and wrist from sparring with Fenna disappear when we walk back into Bedouin’s choultry. The tables have been rearranged into several long rows, with all of the chairs facing the same direction. Not only that, but every chair is also already filled. There must be nearly two dozen people here. As soon as the door shuts behind Nell and I, every head turns back to face us.

I gulp and clench my jaw.

Fenna greets us from one of the chairs in the center. “Ah, Enoch. Good, you’re here. Everyone gathered here early, so we’ve been waiting for you. Now we can get started. Have a seat there, at the front.”

A lone chair is situated facing the line of townspeople at the other end of the room. It makes me uncomfortable just to look at it.

**_“READY!”_ **

_ A dozen guardsmen arranged in a line raise their crossbows in unison. _

**_“AIM!”_ **

_ A lone, emaciated, broken man cowers against the wall, weeping uncontrollably. His hands are bound behind his back, a burlap sack covering his face. _

**_“FIRE!”_ **

_ The weeping turns into a rasping cry. _

**_FWOOMPTH!_ **

_ Twelve triggers are pulled. A volley of bolts are sent from the firing squad. Every shot connects with the weak man’s torso, blending into one audible, gory impact. The man is knocked back against the wall before he becomes nothing but a ragdoll, limply collapsing face-first onto the blood-stained sand, where many others have met the same fate. The tips of the bolts protrude through what used to be the man’s back. _

“Enoch, have a seat.” Fenna repeats, this time sounding more like a command than a request. I obey, my stomach churning as I do.

“So this is the man we’re here for.” says a man with long black hair tied into a ponytail.

“Fah! Hardly a man, he’s barely even grown his first chin hairs!” chides another, this time a bald man with a thick, blonde mustache.

“We’re not here to discuss the state of his facial hair, Fergus.” Fenna announces. “We’re here regarding his past being a slave of the empire.”

“Right, that’s what he was… nice tattoo you have on your chest, there, boy.” The man called Fergus remarks. My jaw clenches as I hold my tongue.

“Enoch, my name is Lamech.” the man with the tied back hair introduces himself. “We just have a few questions for you, but I’ll start this off by telling you a few things about us. We, the people of Olemiss, are not a part of the Anedonian Empire. However, as fate should have it, they are much more powerful than our simple… hamlet. While they have disregarded us thus far, some of us fear that taking you in will grab their attention.”

The way he speaks makes me uncomfortable. Too many large words. Too many pauses.

“But some of us WANT their attention. The empire is growing, spreading outward. They’ll start harassing us sooner or later. I say, why wait?” Fergus proclaims.

“While I don’t agree with Fergus on his stance of declaring ‘war’ on the empire,” Fenna takes a stand, “I don’t want to live in fear of them either. If we’re going to abandon our values and turn away escaped slaves in fear of the empire, we may as well just be a lesser branch of it.”

Some small mumbles of approval are heard, though nothing substantial.

“Regardless, we have questions for you, Enoch.” Lamech speaks again. “First off, how did you escape? Escaping from slavery under the empire is no small feat.”

“I didn’t escape. I was… disposed of.”

The council mutters in confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. What do you mean, you were disposed of?”

“I was assigned to work along the edge of the fringe, clearing away brush and saplings for the larger machinery to have room to work and clear the trees. But my hand was… infected with something.”

“He had vein-rot.” Nell butts in.

The rows of people in front of me continue listening intently.

“Right, vein-rot. So, when the day was over, my taskmaster saw my hand, and… panicked. I was lashed across the face and knocked unconscious.” I point up at the scar on my face. “When I woke up, everyone else was gone, and it was nearly nightfall. So… I was disposed of.”

“Left for dead in the fringe… I see.” Lamech states coldly.

Fergus stands up. “Did you not hear him? They’re cutting through the fringe as we speak, on slave labor! It won’t be long at all before they’ll be marching across the plains right into our homes!”

“Fergus, sit down! This is not a war council!” Lamech commands.

“I’ll not sit down while we’re living freely on borrowed time! Damn it, nobody should!”

A few of the other people in the rows of chairs who haven’t spoken start mumbling amongst themselves. Then I see one of them stand. And another. Fenna stands up as well. I see Morrin follow suit. Before long, well over half of the people in the room are standing. Among them are Bedouin, Fenna, Nell - who was never sitting in the first place, as well as Fergus.

“I think it’s safe to say we conclude that Enoch is free to stay here. His presence might very well be the least of our worries. If the Empire is pushing through the fringe, then they’ll be annexing us sooner or later.” Fenna concludes.

“Not without a fight, they won’t.” Fergus adds.

A resounding “AYE!” fills the tavern-turned-council-chamber.

“Hold on now, you can’t possibly be considering waging war on the empire!? They’ve an army of thousands. We’re not even half of a hundred.” Lamech, one of the few still seated, looks terrified.

“We’re not the only group of people living outside of the empire’s control.” Fergus states plainly.

Fenna backs him up. “He’s right. There are others who bear no sympathy for the empire. We could enlist their help, unite against a common enemy.”

“Who!?” spits Lamech. “The primitive plant-sniffers of the rainforest? The barbarians of the steppes? The hunchbacks of the high mountains?”

“Those are some good places to start, actually.” Fenna responds.

“You can’t possibly be serious!”

“I am serious, Lamech! We can’t just sit on our hands and hope the Empire will leave us alone forever. We both know they won’t. What Enoch just told us makes that clearer than ever.”

“Pure speculation! Having this runaway here is what makes the Empire’s wrath a certainty! What you’re suggesting is suicide! I’ll have no part of it!” Lamech stands up and hastily makes his way out of the tavern.”

Fergus calls after him. “Run and hide, then, coward! Make sure yer ponytail doesn’t get caught in the door!” Lamech is already gone.

“Leave him be, Fergus.” Fenna orders. “He’s no fighter, and his fear is understandable.”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, not entirely sure of what’s happening.

“My apologies, Enoch. Your rights to stay here were never in question, the only man who opposed the idea was Lamech. He demanded a council be held, which was reasonable enough, and so we did. In the process, hopefully we’ve made it clear how alone he is in his views.”

“So I can go?” While I didn’t have to speak nearly as much as I thought, I’m still eager to leave.

“You can leave if you wish. Though the rest of us still have things to discuss, about dealing with the empire. You’re also welcome to stay and listen.” Fenna offers.

I stand and nod in acknowledgement, then make my way back outside.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I see nobody else is outside, and sit against the outer wall of the tavern acting as a town hall, closing my eyes for a moment.

“You alright?”

I open my eyes again and see Nell standing in the doorway.

“I’m fine.” I lie.

She comes to sit beside me, not believing me. “You sure?”

“No.”

“Talk to me, then.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Ahem… I’d argue that there’s quite a lot to talk about.” Nell clearly isn’t backing down.

“There’s nothing I  _ want _ to talk about.”

“Well… I can’t argue with that. So what’re you going to do?”

“I just want to go to sleep. But I don’t want to go back in there.”

“Well, sleeping right outside the bar isn’t an option, either…” She stands and looks down at me, smirking.“If you’re not too tired, we could make camp not too far from town, you could sleep there. I’d always rather sleep under the stars than under a roof, anyways.”

My back hurts, likely from sparring with Fenna. I’d rather not walk the ramp all the way out of town just to avoid facing the strangers in the tavern again in order to go to sleep. But I’ve never said no to Nell before.

I’m not about to start now.

“I’ll follow you.” I say, pushing myself to my feet.

“That’s what I like to hear. Come on, let’s hurry. Morrin, Semyon, and Fenna are all still in the tavern, which means nobody’s keeping watch right now. I’d rather deal with explaining where we were after we come back tomorrow morning.”

~

“There’s a good spot!” Nell remarks, pointing to a group of small, thin trees resting along a slight incline.

Nell pulls her bedroll out of her pack and lays it out on the hillside. Without another word, she lies back with her hands behind her head and starts staring up at the sky, a wide grin spread across her face.

“Is it safe for us to sleep here, out in the open like this?”

Nell giggles. “Worried a rassic will sneak up on you again? Don’t be. Rassics only inhabit the fringe. Stray wolves are the only ‘danger’ here, and they rarely attack humans unless provoked. We’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

“Lie down, for Fahrana’s sake. I got us out of town so you could relax. You’ve been tense ever since we set foot in Olemiss.”

I do as she says, joining her in staring up at the sky. The last shades of orange are beginning to fade in the distance.

We’re both silent for a short while, but before long it makes me uncomfortable. I glance over to Nell to find her eyes still open, looking far away into the night.

“So…” I say, not having planned anything else after that.

“Yeah?” she whispers dreamily.

“I dunno.”

Nell chuckles softly, rolling over and kissing my cheek. Any chances I had of relaxing are gone as tension rushes through my body. My cheeks flush with heat and my heart begins pounding too fast for comfort. Before I can think of how to react or what to say, Nell strikes up an idle conversation.

“The stars are out.” Nell states, looking at the void above.

“The lights in the sky?”

“Hehe, yes, the stars. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“I suppose. I’m not used to being able to see them.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t remember the last time I was able to see the stars… before I was left in the Fringe, I mean.”

“Fah. I can’t imagine that. Aside from last night at Bed’s, I spend just about every night under the stars.”

“That’s what I have a hard time getting used to. I’m used to sleeping with a roof over my head. But… I think I’ve liked this more. It’s just… strange. New.”

“I bet a lot of things are, lately.”

“Yeah.” I breathe absentmindedly.

An awkward silence threatens to invade, but Nell always knows how to keep a conversation going when she wants to have one.

“How does… all of this… feel? I mean… how are you settling in?”

“I don’t know. At this point, I’m just following your lead. I’m not… settled. If you wanted to leave tomorrow, I’d be right behind you. But if you want to stay for… however long, I… I guess I’ll stay.”

Nell doesn’t say anything in response, so I continue letting my thoughts out.

“I just don’t know what I’d do if we got separated somehow. I mean… I still don’t feel like I should be your responsibility. I know I’ve always… depended on other people, for my daily meal, and my… cell. But I paid them back by doing what I was told. Now I have you, but you’re… different.”

“What do you mean?”

“The first day we met, when I… was weak, and passed out… instead of lashing me when I was too weak to carry on, you… carried me back to camp and fed me, more than I’d ever eaten at once before. Any of my other taskmasters would have just… left me there. To feed whatever animals found me overnight.”

“That’s … don’t compare me to your taskmasters, Enoch. I’m not like them. Not even close.”

“I know. It’s just strange to me. And it makes me feel weak. Worthless.”

“That’s… I don’t understand, Enoch. You feel weak and worthless now that you’re… not a slave?”

I reluctantly sit up, realizing this conversation isn’t going to be leading me to sleep. “As a slave, I had a job to do, one I knew how to do, and I’d do it. If I didn’t perform well, I’d be punished. So I always did my job well. Here, in the wild, with you, it’s been made clear to me several times how helpless I am. I’m useless to you!”

“Enoch…” As my words rise in volume, Nell puts her hand on my knee and coos my name in that calming, reassuring voice of hers… but it’s not the voice I want to hear right now. I don’t know what I want to hear, so I pull away from her and stand up, continuing my rant.

“You’ve done just about everything for me ever since I ‘escaped’! Yet you act like I don’t owe you anything in return! I owe you  _ everything _ ! I feel more bound to  _ you _ than I  _ ever _ felt to my taskmasters.” 

A wave of fear crashes over me as my heart skips several beats. I know I’ve gone too far, but I can’t take anything back. I can’t bring myself to look Nell in the eyes, those beautiful eyes that are likely welling up with tears… so I start walking back towards town, our night under the stars clearly at an end.

Nell follows after me, trying to get me to stop. Instead I panic and walk away from her at an even faster pace. I don’t look back, I can’t, but I can hear in her voice that she’s struggling to hold back tears. Again, I’ve made her sad. As usual. It seems to me that’s all I’m good for.

“I didn’t… I never meant for… Enoch, tell me you don’t mean that… please, you don’t…”

“I know what I meant!” I shout back at her, lying both to myself and her. I don’t understand what I meant. But it had the desired effect. With that, she stops as I continue back to Olemiss, alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for angst.  
> I'm mad at myself for taking it in this direction too.  
> It'll be alright in the end, though. Probably. My heart's pretty damn fragile, so... yeah.
> 
> Also, in the future, I'd like to know how you guys feel about me possibly switching the perspective over to Nell's POV for a few chapters. I figure while they're separated, it'd be a good chance to develop her character a lot more since Enoch is completely incompetent at interpreting her actual feelings when we're stuck with just his POV. Plus I feel she needs more central screen-time as well, and that's my best idea on how to go about doing it.
> 
> Just thought I should bring that up as changing the POV this late into a story could be jarring for some, and I just had the idea of switching to Nell's POV a short while ago, but I'm willing to give it a shot if other folks would be on board with it.


	15. Relapse

I make my way to Bedouin’s, the only building I recognize, hoping it’s empty like it was the first time I ever entered it. With Nell at my side.

I don’t want to think about her tonight. Luckily, Bedouin’s place is now deserted, all the tables empty and clean.

Save for one in the corner, seating a familiar, tiny physique.

I hope I go unnoticed, but almost instantaneously, Ibra shoots up and blocks my path to the stairs.

“E! You’re back! How’d yer romantic escapade under the stars go with yer dearie?” She’s slurring her words even moreso than usual. Combined with her difficult-to-understand accent and obnoxiously high-pitched voice, I dread the coming conversation I’ll have to endure.

“I just want to go to bed.”

“That feisty, is she? C’mon, E, don’t be a dunderhead. Talk to me! I want details!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” As usual.

“Bollocks! You… you seriously don’t, do you?”

“TOLD YA SO, IBRA!” Bedouin’s voice roars from the back room, followed by raspy cackling.

“Drat! I have to pay double price on mead for a week 'cause of you.”

Again, I don’t know what she’s talking about.

Bedouin walks out, then, joining the conversation. “Lay off him, lass. He prob’ly dinnae even know she likes him.”

“Well, do you?” Ibra pokes me in the chest, firmly.

“Nell likely means ta surprise—” Bedouin interjects, but Ibra continues.

“You do know she fancies you, yeah?”

“Well now you’ve gone an’ ruined it, Ib.”

“I don’t have a clue what you’re saying.” I lie again. I got the hint, but now is not when I wanted to deal with it.

Unlike my last lie, this one doesn’t work as intended. Ibra is unrelenting as ever.

“She fancies you. You knowwww!” She leans into my chest, uncomfortably close. Her breath smells incredibly musky, so much that it makes me light-headed as I inhale. “She wants to wet yer willy. Make the beast with two backs with you. Get it?” Her question is punctuated by a violent hiccup, yet she continues to speak. “She wants—”

“Alright, I get it! Will you just leave me alone now? I’m going to bed.”

It feels strange telling other people what I’m going to do, rather than being told, but it serves me well here, saving me from further discomfort. I don’t want to think about _anything_ that was said today.

“He’s gaggin’ for her too, at least.” I hear Ibra mutter as I head upstairs.

“I think that’s enough for tonight, Ibra.” Bedouin states somberly. Finally something I can agree with.

I’ve had enough for tonight.

* * *

I awaken to the sound of something shattering below. Then I hear Bedouin’s booming voice reverberating through the walls.

“DAMN IT IBRA, THAT’S THE THIRD MUG THIS WEEK!”

Ibra snaps back in response, but with how quickly she speaks, it’s too muffled through the walls for me to understand.

I sit up and look around the room. I see through splits in the wooden walls that it’s daytime again. Aside from that I take note that I’m the only one in the room.

_Right._

I don’t know why I blew up on Nell last night. I’m not even sure if I meant what I said, but I do know that I regret how things happened. I have to find her. After that, I’m not sure what I’ll say.

I descend down the stairs to find Bedouin bent over and picking up bits of thin ceramic.

“Yer up finally. Good timing too. Ibra just left.” Bedouin notes, without looking up from the mess he’s cleaning up.

“Do you know where Nell is?” I’m not in the mood for making idle conversation.

“Ah, no, actually. She never came in last night, far as I know, and Ibra said she couldn’t find her anywhere outside the town this mornin’. Somethin’ the matter?”

“No. I just need to talk to her.”

“Not about what Ibra pestered ye with last night, I hope? Dunno where a lass young as she gets her ideas from.”

“No!” I answer, a bit too forcefully. “I just need to sort some things out with her. About what happens next. Since I’m new here.”

“That’s good. Keep yer priorities straight, lad. I reckon you’ll have more important things to worry about in the comin’ days.”

“R-right. I should go, then.”

“Ayep. Talk to Fenna. She’ll give ye somethin’ to do.”

I leave without further response, not wanting to tell him that I still plan on finding Nell first, not asking Fenna for work.

Unfortunately, just as I head outside, Fenna is already approaching and she immediately calls me out.

“Enoch! I’ve been looking for you. We need to talk.” I suppose there’s no avoiding her. Maybe she really can single-handedly keep watch over the whole town.

“What is it?”

“It’s Lamech. You remember him from the meeting?”

“The one who doesn’t want me here. Who argued with Fergus.”

“Correct. And this is about that. He stormed out of the council last night, I’m sure you remember, and he hasn’t been seen since. He’s missing.”

“What do you mean? It’s only been one night. How is he missing?”

“Because Fergus’ horse has also been stolen. And we don’t have any thieves here. I fear Lamech may have fled town. Where and why, I’m not sure, but I have some ideas, none of them good.”

“I KNOW WHY! LAMECH’S A BLOODY COWARD!” a gruff voice rings out behind me.

“Hello, Fergus.” Fenna responds calmly as Fergus stomps his way towards us, making the whole boardwalk shake with each step. “I was just informing Enoch of the—”

“And I’ll tell you why, too! I bet that rat’s runnin’ to the Empire to tell ‘em Enoch is here, hopin’ that’ll get Lammy on their good side!” Fergus rants on, seemingly oblivious that Fenna was ever talking.

To my surprise, Fenna agrees with him. “Indeed. We’ve always known he was a cowardly type, but I never suspected he might leave for the Empire. And Fergus’ theory, while far-fetched, is certainly a possibility. Though part of me doubts the Empire would devote any actual resources to hunt down one runaway slave… no offense.”

“I feel it in my gut, I tell you.” Fergus exclaims. “And my gut’s never let me astray.”

“Wait.” I intercede. “Nell… also left last night.”

“That’s normal for Nell. She leaves town all the time without telling anyone. But she usually comes back with valuable pelts or other things of worth, so she pulls her weight. Even when she doesn’t, the rest of the townsfolk seem to like her. While I don’t necessarily like her tendency to disappear without warning, as is her wont, she’s free to do as she wishes.”

“But… do you think she might have taken Fergus’ horse?” I feel shameful even suggesting such a thing, but if it could possibly help me figure out where she went, I have to ask.

“Pch!” Fergus scoffs. “Nell doesn’t know how to ride a horse. O’ course, she says she just prefers to walk, but we all know it’s because she can’t ride. Besides, Nell’s no thief. While she ain’t the best at informing us when she decides to leave town, she’s an honest sort.”

“I do find it strange that she would leave unannounced with you still here.” Fenna adds. “She’d been practically glued to your side the entire time since you both arrived. When did you see her last?”

“Last night, just outside of town. We were… talking about the stars. But then we argued. I went back to Bedouin’s. She didn’t follow me back.”

“Hm.” Is all Fenna responds with.

“I’m, ah, gonna get back to work at the forge, Fen.” Fergus mutters quietly and stomps off.

Fenna doesn’t reply, rubbing her chin in deep thought.

“So what should I do?” I ask.

“Well, unless you’re an incredibly sharp tracker, you won’t be able to find her. All you can do is wait, really. She’s bound to come back to town eventually.”

The last voice I want to hear butts in on the conversation. “Hold on a tic, someone say they needed a tracker?” Ibra, seemingly out of nowhere, is now standing between Fenna and I.

“No.” Fenna answers for me, though I was considering answering differently. “With a potential war in our near future, and Lamech suspected to have fled town and stolen Fergus’ horse, I want everyone here accounted for. I’m not letting you go off on a foolish mission to track Nell down.”

“But—” Ibra starts to protest.

“No buts, girl. Nell does what she wants, much as I hate to admit it. All we can do is hope for her return. If I were to have anyone tracked, it would be Lamech, but he’s on horseback, and you can’t ride, Ibra.”

Ibra huffs and storms off without another word, surprising both of us.

“Enoch…” Fenna suddenly clamps an armored gauntlet around my shoulder. “I understand that Nell is important to you, so trust me when I say this is normal of her. I don’t know when she’ll return, but you’re gonna keep your chin up until then, got it?”

I nod in affirmation, but with no enthusiasm. I’m heartbroken, and can’t bring myself to feel anything else. Not only did Nell abandon me, but it was entirely my doing. I drove her away, and that’s that. My ridiculous emotions made her leave, and so I’m left with nothing.

_“Get over yourself, boy.” Invigilator Seraphim stands over me as I stare at the carpet, an entire crate of spilled inkwells on my mistress’ beautifully designed flooring. “Stop crying. I’m more disappointed that you’re sitting here crying amidst your mess than working to fix it.”_

_“I-I’m sorry, mistress. I’m not crying.” I shake my head. I really wasn’t crying._

_“Oh? Then why are you standing here with your face so… flushed?”_

_“I-I’m just angry, mistress. At myself.”_

_“Good. As you should be. Use that anger to better yourself, so that you won’t make the same mistake ever again.”_

_“I… It’s good for me to be angry, mistress?”_

_“If you use it properly, yes. Anger can be an effective tool, it can make you productive, motivate you to accomplish extraordinary things. Sadness, however, is unacceptable. All sadness does is lead to stagnation.”_

_“O-oh…” I’m surprised I’m being lectured, rather than punished. I deserve punishment for causing such a mess._

_“Now clean this up. The entire time you work at making this floor spotless, you just keep in mind that it’s your fault the mess is there in the first place, and hate yourself for being so clumsy as to do such a thing. Let that self-hatred motivate you, and keep it close so that you never forget it, and never make this mistake again.”_

_“Y-yes, mistress, right away!”_

My heartbreak swiftly turns into anger as I recall another lost memory with my mistr--… Lady Seraphim. Yes, this is my fault. Nell left because of me, because I wasn’t good enough.

**_‘Better yourself.’_ **

The words echo in my head repeatedly.

“Fenna.”

“Yes, Enoch?”

“I want to spar with you again.”

* * *

The flat of Fenna’s blade crashes into my back after I put too much force into a swing that I’d missed completely, causing my spine to seize up for a second and I fall to my knees.

I’m quick to recover, however, and throw myself back at Fenna with a rapid flurry of swings. She blocks each one with her shield and, instead of striking me with her blade, rams the rim of her targe into my gut, forcing me to double over as I hold myself back from vomiting.

“Enoch, where is your sense? You’re fighting like a savage, not a warrior.” She chides as I bring myself back to my feet.

Instead of responding, I return to my combat stance. She relents and readies her shield, and I attack once more.

I thrust my blade at her midsection, which I expect her to block. As she does, I pivot and bring the sword back around to her thigh, but she catches it with her own blade before the blow connects.

“Better.” She notes. “But now you’re off-balance and completely vulnerable.”

Then she smashes her forehead into my cheekbone, sending me stumbling backwards and completely open for her to drive her fist into my gut. This time I’m not able to hold back from retching out my stomach fluids.

“I think you’ve had enough.” Fenna states coldly.

“No.” I wipe my chin with the back of my hand. “Again.”

“Very well.” She readies herself as I stagger back to my feet.

Once I’m steady, she attacks first, and I’m too sluggish to block a single one of her blows. Her blade connects with my bicep at full speed, and I involuntarily drop my shield. She pirouettes around me, slamming her blade into the small of my back again, following it up with a strong kick to the back of my left knee, sending me tumbling back down into the dirt.

“Realize your limits, Enoch. You can’t fight anymore. All you’re doing is subjecting yourself to unnecessary punishment at this rate. There’s no dishonor in admitting defeat, and it’s stubborn foolishness to think otherwise.”

I bring myself up to my knees, take a heaving breath as I steady myself and look her in the eyes. “Hit me again.”

“What?” Her stoic visage breaks into confusion.

“Hit me… again.”

_“Beg me to stop, and I’ll consider ending the punishment here.”_

_Invigilator Seraphim strokes my cheek with her soft hand, her riding crop held loosely in her other hand down by her side._

_“N-no.” I splutter out._

_“No? Really now, no? And why is that?” Her eyes gleam with excitement._

_“I-I… I deserve to be punished, mistress.”_

_“Indeed you do. I’m so glad you’re able to understand that, boy. You never fail to impress me.” Her thumb strokes my cheek once more, her long nails gently scraping my jawline as her hand leaves my face._

_CRACK!_

_The lash connects with the skin on my back once more, and my heart swells with pride._

_“Now beg, boy. Beg me to leave another scar on your back, so you never forget your mistake!”_

_“Hit me again, mistress.” I whine, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. She prefers it when I don’t hold them back, so I let them flow freely._

_She readies the whip once more…_

“We’re done, Enoch. You’re not in your right mind.”

“N-no! I can still fight!” I scramble to grab my sword off the ground.

“The scar on your cheek as well as several on your back have reopened. You are bleeding. You’ve vomited and haven’t had anything to drink or eat all day.”

Fenna strides over to me, grabs my sword by it’s blade and rips it from my grasp.

“Your eagerness to continue to fight when you’ve already lost doesn’t impress me, nor does your endurance. Having a high pain tolerance will do nothing for you when you’re in a real fight with a blade through your stomach.”

“I…” I don’t know what to say.

“We are done.” She says it with absolute authority, brooking no dissent. “We’re going to tend to your scars, Bedouin will feed you, and you will rest. Am I clear?”

I nod in affirmation, my breathing so ragged I can’t bring myself to speak anymore. Fenna offers me her hand to help me to my feet. I ignore it and force myself up on my own, earning me a look of disdain.

“All you’re proving to me is what a stubborn fool you are. If you insist on acting in such a way, then I trust you can walk on your own.”

With that, she turns towards the town, and I limp after her as best I can without a word. I finally notice the blood sliding down my face, from the freshly opened scar on my cheek.

I leave it to dry where it lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, Enoch isn't the only one breaking down and being an angsty dunderhead. I too am relapsing into being an emotional piece of garbage, which, obviously, is leaking into my writing. Don't worry, I don't plan to let it get out of control, which is why progress is going to slow down and it'll likely be awhile before the next update comes.
> 
> Everything I've put up so far had already been written over the course of the past year (and actually, I originally created most of these characters and their backstories in my head over 3 years ago, when I was a junior in high school).
> 
> I was tweaked on Adderall (prescribed) when I suddenly had the confidence and motivation to split it up into chapters and post it here to share what I had with the public. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision that I didn't think through, because I've never actually been a "regular" writer.
> 
> Occasionally I'll sit down and write, like, 20,000 words of decent quality content in a day, and then I'll go for months unable to put down even 500 words of content that I can be proud of.
> 
> The problem I'm having now is I'm not exactly sure which direction I want to take this, so I've had a hard time writing further chapters that I can feel proud of. I've probably written three separate renditions of what could be the next few chapters so far, but I feel they all lack quality compared to what I've written thus far, so I've scrapped them all.
> 
> It could just be me slipping back into a depressive episode after a good stint of hypomania, so I just lack the confidence to think that what I'm writing is any good (especially since I've picked up the bad habit of comparing this, my first work, to other, far more well-established AO3 authors with a plethora of works under each of their belts), but I don't want to risk uploading a chapter that isn't worth your time to spend reading. 
> 
> Even though I'm probably holding myself to too high a standard, especially considering this is the first proper story I've ever written, I'd rather be safe than sorry.
> 
> College is also becoming a problem. I don't have as much time to spend writing this, so when I do sit down to work on this, I often catch myself writing rather bare-bones scenes that further the plot along, but lack any real "content", so I wind up scrapping it and returning to square one, or just setting it aside and forcing myself to do that 4-page essay in one day, which is due tomorrow that I've had 3 months to do.
> 
> Then when I get back to this, I'm still in my professional, college writing mindset, and it's hard to get back into the groove of writing this in the style I've established for this story, so I wind up with a series of two-sentence "paragraphs" and a series of back-and-forth dialogue without much actually happening.
> 
> I don't want to abandon this. I don't plan to. But my writing quality has gone down lately, and I find myself lacking inspiration and unable to come up with creative ways to move the plot along.
> 
> Sorry for making this author's note nearly as long as the chapter itself, I just figured I'd put myself out there. Since you take the time to read my work even though it's probably amateur compared to some other stuff you could be reading, and I've received almost nothing but positive feedback, I feel an obligation to let you guys know where I'm at.
> 
> I normally despise tl;dr's but I figure it's necessary with how much I rambled on.
> 
> tl;dr: It'll probably be awhile before the next update. Depends on how long it'll take me to get my shit together. Sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting anything I've written online, and my first large-scale piece of writing. Any feedback you have for me is highly appreciated, and I encourage you to comment below, whether it's positive encouragement, constructive criticism, or any questions you may have, please, don't hesitate to let me know.


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